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NATURE'S TEMPLE 



JOSEPH DICKSON CARSON 

AUTHOR OF STUDIES IN THE LITERATURE OF THE 
NATIONS 



Thoughts are the Seeds Immortal 
From which all fruitage springs 



PHILADELPHIA, PA. BOSTON, MASS. 

OLDACH COMPANY FRANK SALINSKI 

5 1 N. Seventh Street 2 a Beacon Street 






Copyright, 1910, by 
T. C. GROSS 



EtECTROTYPERS 

WE8TCOTT & THOMSON 

PHILADELPHIA 



IMPRESS 

EDWARD STERN & CO., INC. 

PHILADELPHIA 



(g.G! A2r>^n93 



CONTENTS. 



[The prose articles are marked with a star (*).] 

PAGE 

To the Reader ^ 7 

DEITY, LIFE, AND IMMORTALITY. 

Worlds in the Ascending and Descending Scale * 1 1 

In Nature's Temple . 14 

The River of Life 16 

Thoughts are the Seeds Immortal 19 

Is the Poet Dead ? 20 

Indestructible . . . , . 22 

Ere I am Dead 23 

An Emblem 25 

If True 26 

ELLICOTTS AND A TRIBUTE. 

The Ellicotts Flood * 29 

Ellicotts, A Tale of the Patapsco 31 

A Tribute to Britain from the Land of Washington and Lincoln . 45 

SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 

Their Antiquity, Language, and Teachings * . 49 

SONGS— PATRIOTIC, SENTIMENTAL, AND SEMI-COMIC. 

We were Dauntless Young Men Then 59 

My Loved, My Lost, My Wand'ring Boy 61 

Can this be Joe, My Long-lost Joe ? 62 

What Harry Promised Me 63 

Can this be May? 64 

Within the Garden Gate 66 

Chained . . . 67 

3 



4 CONTENTS. 

A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

PAGE " 

The Hero of the Tale* , 71 

Henry G 's Story 73 

CONTROVERSIAL. 

Investigation * 95 

No Limit to Investigation 96 

A Dream of Endless Life 99 

Thoughts Concerning the Deity and a Future State* .... 102 

There are Moments 116 



RODERICK— OTHER POEMS AND ARTICLES. 

Roderick, a Tale 119 

A Tiller of the Soil 125 

Thoughts on Thought* 1 29 

The Laws of Nature* 131 

In that Life of Thine— To Molly 1 33 

One of Our Number 134 

The Harp of Zion . 136 

The Good Samaritan 137 

The Unmerciful Servant . 138 

The Mountain Maid 138 

Diversity of Thought a Means of Education * 140 

A Sealed Diary 145 

When We were Young 146 

POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

The Refugees' Song 149 

Address to Fancy 151 

Claverhouse 153 

The Giant's Causeway 154 

The Lovers 155 

The Rose may Fade 156 

A Song 157 

A Valentine 158 



IL L US TRA TIONS. 5 

SELECTIONS FROM STUDIES IN THE LITERATURE 
OF THE NATIONS.^ 

PAGE 

The Ancient Faiths of India — Brahmanism ......... 161 

The Buddha 161 

From the Literature of Ancient Greece 166 

Homer • • 168 

Xenophanes — Teachings . 173 

Socrates , 173 

From the Literature of France 179 

De Mirabeau i8i 

Robespierre '^°Z 

De Mirabeau and Robespierre Compared 184 

From the Literature of Palestine— The Hebrew Scriptures . . 186 

Apocryphal Books • 187 

The Septuagint . . . . , • 188 

The Books of the New Testament 189 

From American Literature 191 

The Lord of Tezcuco 192 

Banish Care 194 

Indian Thanatopsis 19c 

Bernardino De Sahaguns 196 

Abraham Lincoln 198 

From English Literature 203 

The War of the Roses 203 

Oliver Goldsmith 204 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Frontispiece i 

And thus ray soul was schooled to the sublime 
'Midst vast upheavals of some ancient time (page 76). 



6 ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

The Visit to the Studio 48 

That gleam of the eye, that smile upon the beautiful lip, 
or that sunlight ray, when reproduced, may make the 
picture immortal (pages 55, 56). 

The Song 6i 

My mother heart would hail with joy 
My loved, my lost, my wand' ring boy. 

The Fiancee 68 

For love can weave its brittle web 
Stronger than iron chains. 

Without a Cloud 82 

From purest love our keenest pang will spring, 
We to our bosoms press the blissful sting. 

Lincoln 90 

Lincoln, immortal chief — not nobler name 
In all the annals of our nation's fame. 

Roderick 118 

And coming always in the moon's full light. 

That gallant horse and rider drop each night (page 124). 

The Giant's Causeway -154 

For I was born where Nature's cliffs are piled 

In frowning, towering, rugged grandeur wild (page 76). 



TO THE READER. 



"^V- OETS sometimes veil their thoughts 
P \ in obscure phrases. The readers 
ft seek to unfold the hidden meaning, 
^^^ just as they would endeavor to solve 
a puzzle given them by a friend. At other 
times they write in plain language as their 
''songs gushed from" their "hearts." 

In seekinor to discover an author's obscure 
thoughts, the readers mingle their own 
thoughts with those of the poet. They thus 
give him credit not only for his thought but 
also for their own thoughts. The poet who 
uses obscure language resembles those poets 
of whom Socrates told when before his judges 
— every one knew the meaning of their poems 
better than they did themselves. 

Thought gives birth to thought. The readers 
of ambiguous verse, by mingling their thoughts 
— which are produced by the poem — with those 
of the poet, form a connecting link between 
themselves and the author. This link endears 



8 TO THE READER. 

to them his Hnes. Knowing this advantage of 
obscurity, I have sought, nevertheless, to ex- 
press my thoughts in as clear words as pos- 
sible, believing that language is for the ex- 
pression of thought, not for its concealment. 

These poems and sketches were written 
during a period of over sixty years. I am 
aware that however it may have been "in 
those old days when I was young," it is now 
an offence to indulge in poesy. I can only 
plead in mitigation that like many who love 
the sweet strains of music, I love the har- 
mony of words when they convey thought 
and sentiment, and that I have taken my 
part in the active affairs of life, spending only 
leisure hours with poesy, which I sometimes 
did not have for years. I have only indulged 
in verse when the spirit of the Muses said 
"Write." Whether I have merited the smiles 
or frowns of the "Goddess of Song" it is for 
you, gentle readers, to decide. You are the 
judge and the jury combined. From your 
verdict there is no appeal. 




DEITY, LIFE, 

AND 

IMMORTALITY. 



Aa 



WORLDS IN THE ASCENDING AND 
DESCENDING SCALE. 




!UT few of otherwise well-informed 
D \ persons have even a dim conception 
^^ '^ of the great Creator as displayed 
in the starry firmament. When we 
behold myriads of suns and satellites revolving 
in space, we are lost in wonder at the power 
of that Infinite Intelligence, that " Ceaseless 
energy," which guides by law those countless 
worlds. Aided by the researches of sages, 
who have linked their names to the stars, we 
may contemplate these beautiful worlds. In a 
moment our thoughts reach the most remote. 

We are entranced when with Proctor we be- 
hold suns of many rich colors — the double stars 
of green and red, orange and blue, purple and 
yellow — mingling their rays of richest hues to 
light their satellites. Compared with the beauty 
of these worlds our snow-capped mountains, 
our mountain waves of ocean, and coral islands 
sink into insignificance. 



II 



12 WORLDS, ASCENDING AND DESCENDING SCALE. 

Astronomers have long thought that there 
exists a center of gravity around which our sun 
and its worlds and all the other myriad suns 
and worlds revolve. Maedler says this center 
of gravity is the bright star Alcyone and its 
satellites. It has been computed that our sun 
and his worlds — moving in his orbit at the 
speed of thirty-three million miles a year — 
would require over ninety-five million years to 
travel around this central orb. This immense 
distance is so vast that it is inconceivable to our 
limited comprehension. 

The Christian philosopher Dick draws a 
word-picture of all these immense worlds, and 
similar countless groups of worlds which adorn 
the heavens, revolving around the throne of 
God. It is a sublime poetic dream ; resembling, 
but on an infinitely larger scale, the thrones of 
earthly kings. The throne of God is every- 
where. It exists throughout all the boundless 
universe. It is in that tiny world a drop of 
water as much as it is in the most glorious 
worlds which revolve throughout infinite space. 

Wonderful as are these immense countless 
globes, no less wonderful are the myriads of 
minute worlds — drops of water — inhabited by 
countless living beings 



worlds, ascending and descending scale. 1 3 

On the Descending Scale, 

which are ruled by law as surely as are the 
larger inhabitants of the earth. Of these tiny 
worlds Professor Rymer Jones writes : 

" Take any drop of water from the stagnant 
pools, from our rivers, from our lakes, or from 
the vast ocean itself, and place it under the 
microscope. You will find therein countless 
living beings, moving in all directions with con- 
siderable swiftness, apparently gifted with sa- 
gacity, for they readily elude each other in the 
active dance they keep up. . . . Increase the 
power of your glasses, and you will soon per- 
ceive inhabiting the same drop other animals, 
compared to which the former were elephantine 
in their dimensions, equally gifted. Exhaust 
the art of the optician, strain your eyes to the 
utmost, until the aching sense refuses to per- 
ceive the little quivering movement that indi- 
cates the presence of life, and you will find that 
you have not exhausted nature in the descend- 
ing scale." 

To us who measure all things by ourselves, 
this life and organism seems infinite in its small- 
ness. Could one of these tiny creatures behold 
a fly it would appear to it a monster. 




14 IN NATURE'S TEMPLE. 

IN NATURE'S TEMPLE. 

A HYMN TO THE DEITY. 

" Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in everything," — Shakespeare. 

"^ HAVE stood at science's portal ; 
I ^ Caught a glimpse of Nature's laws, 
,JJ. While my soul In adoration, 
^^ Bow'd to the Eternal Cause. 
When I stepped within that portal 

Human teaching seemed all vain ; 
Nature's oldest revelations 

From my spirit cast their chain. 

All of earth-born creeds then vanished ; 

All their mists were swept away, 
While I worshipped in His Temple, 

In a clearer, brighter day. 
There in beauty, vast, transcendent, 

Through the endless realms of space, 
Amidst myriads worlds unfolded 

I beheld a Father's face. 

From the deepest paths of Ocean 
To her highest billow's swell, 

In each drop of briny water 
Countless tiny creatures dwell. 



IN NATURE'S TEMPLE. 1 5 

In each river, field, and forest 

Teaming life is everywhere, 
Yet all beings, insects, creatures 

Have their Great Creator's care. 

Love shall flow throughout all Nature, 

Ever while the ages run, 
Our God hath no chosen peoples, 

Love enfoldeth every one. 
All amidst his boundless temple. 

Grander far than poet's dream. 
Far above all human passion. 

Dwells our God in bliss supreme. 

Far around me in His temple 

Kneel the men of every clime. 
Our united prayer ascending 

To the Lord of Life sublime. 
From our souls when thus united. 

Freely flow with one accord. 
All our spirit's adoration, 

To the great Eternal Lord. 

When I stand within Thy presence. 
Through Thy laws beholding Thee, 

Men's shackles from my spirit fall, 
While Thy glory hallows me. 



1 6 THE RIVER OF LIFE. 

Oh, sons of men, why grovel here, 
When your nature bids be free ? 

Upon God's altar lay your chains. 
To Him only bend the knee. 



All glorious in that Temple, 

Where love lights an endless day. 
Our souls embalmed by that pure light. 

Ever live beyond decay. 
While thus dwelling in Thy Temple, 

With Thy presence still around. 
All Thy worlds by Thee unfolded 

Unto me are holy ground. 



THE RIVER OF LIFE 



PART I. 

fe^'^=^ ROM whence flows that river no 
mortal can tell. 




From the Spirit of God that life 
stream may swell. 
Its tide may surge fiercely or tranquil glide 

slow. 
But onward forever its waters shall flow. 



THE RIVER OE LIEE. \J 

We plung-e in that river, the river of Hfe, 
Midst songs of rejoicing, midst turmoil and 

strife. 
But kind hands support us and dear ones are 

niorh 
To aid and defend us and soothe our first cry. 

In youth's pleasant morning how tranquil its 

tide, 
With hopes of the future, still forward we 

glide. 
We drink of life's pleasures while onward 

they flow. 
Our dreams of to-morrow unclouded by woe. 

A swell in the river and clouds in the sky, 
The- lightning is flashing, a tempest is nigh, 
We join in the conflict, the combat of life, 
Rough-tossed by its fury, its struggle, and 
strife. 

PART II. 

When mighty rivers cease to run, 
When earth hath vanished, stars and sun. 
Life's stream in music, through the spheres. 
Shall flow throughout eternal years. 
Shall backward run. Oh ! never. 

Bi 



1 8 THE RIVER OF LIFE. 

Though ''men may come and men may go,"* 
Like river-drops they ever flow ; 
The stream of Hfe, through regions fair, 
When streams of water melt in air, 
Shall onward flow forever. 

For fairer than the purest gem 
Which glows on brightest diadem, 
These living drops shall always flow. 
Through changing forms, they come, they go. 
And ever onward glide. 

I see in vision of my dream. 
Midst verdant banks that crystal stream. 
No drop shall ever melt in air. 
Each hath a loving Father's care 
Throughout the endless years. 

All treasured by a love divine. 
These pearly drops shall ever shine ; 
And each throughout eternal years, 
Shall flow in music through the spheres, 
A purified, a living gem, 
On God's eternal diadem. 

"^ " Men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever." 

Tennyson's "Song of the Brook." 



THOUGHTS ARE THE SEEDS IMMORTAL. 1 9 
THOUGHTS ARE THE SEEDS IMMORTAL. 



ijii lH ! the poet lives undying; 

OBy his sweet lays possessed, 
What myriad hearts are throbbing, 
' Countless lives are bless'd ! 
We feel with a thrill of rapture 

His soul-enchanting song ; 
And we would through time eternal 
Its melody prolong. 

Write nothing that's vile, O poet ! 

But noble be thy lays. 
Thy rhythm like crystal waters, 

Thy thoughts like diamond rays. 
Thus thy songs shall live forever 

In melody that's pure ; 
They shall swell throughout the ages 

While human hearts endure. 

For thoughts are the seeds immortal 

From which all fruitage springs ; 
Thy enchanting lays if evil 

Will plant the keenest stings. 
A soul may dwell in other souls 

Imparting thoughts sublime, 
In countless lives may live anew 

Through endless years of time. 



20 IS THE POET DEAD? 

In the shadowed coming glory 

Of man's still brighter day, 
The sons of earth though yet unborn 

Will hearken to thy lay. 
Their souls enraptured by thy song 

A blessing back will send ; 
These spirits of the coming men 

Shall with thy spirit blend. 

Thus the poet's songs forever 

Shall flow through future days, 
Freedom's sons throughout the ages 

Shall sing anew his lays. 
Oh ! the poet lives immortal 

Undying in his song, 
And his purest notes shall ever 

Life's sweetest joys prolong. 



IS THE POET DEAD? 



A QUESTION OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. 



'* The natural philosopher of to-day may dwell amid conceptions \ 

which beggar those of Milton."— yi?/;;; Tyndall. 

fe==^^====^N this age of wondrous science 
I ^ Is the Poet dead ? 

Shall his verse, once deemed im- 
mortal. 
Never more be read ? 





I 



IS THE POET DEAD? 21 

Not while lofty thoughts are gleaming, 

Tender ones are nigh, 
Not while noble deeds enshrine us 

Shall the poet die ! 

All throughout the maze of matter 

There is endless thought, 
Greater far than poet ever 

In his verses wrought : 
Burning thoughts, perchance, which fleeting 

Flashed o'er Shakespeare's brain ; 
Ere his pen or pencil placed them 

They had fled again. 

But some future bard shall grasp them 

And will write them down ; 
They shall shine forever, jewels 

On his laurel crown. 
His the theme of coming ages, 

Nature's hidden lore. 
Grander far than songs of sages 

Who have lived of yore. 

Not the fabled gods of Homer 

Of the ancient day, 
But perchance of worlds unnumbered 

In the Milky Way! 



2 2 INDES TR UC TIBL E. 

Amidst the phonograph of space 
Sweetest notes are there, 

In an endless music floating 
Through its sunlight air. 

When the voice of human passion 

Sounds in future days, 
It will surely find expression 

In the poet's lays. 
Then never say the poet's dead 

Or verse is ancient lore ; 
For while there throbs the human heart 

His songs shall thrill once more ! 



INDESTRUCTIBLE 



M 



ATTER secure in its own existence. 
Bidding defiance unto time, dreads 

nought ; 
The smallest atom cannot be de- 
stroyed ; 
Through changing forms it always shall exist. 
Why then, should the spirit ever perish 
While its material clothinsf still survives ? 

The vital spark of life to quench were 
A strange anomaly in Nature's laws. 



ERE I AM DEAD. 2^ 

Like unto one who preserved a casket, 
Destroyed the gem which it contained. 
Shall spirit — or what men name it — perish 
And the clod upon which men tread survive? 
Thus to reason were the wildest madness. 

The essence of the soul which ever lives, 

Like matter, bids defiance unto time ; 

In beauty lives when worlds have passed away. 

Behold ! a moving-, breathing, thinking form, 

Instinct with vital life ; here lies its corpse 

Inanimate. No vital spark is there ; 

The spirit's fled. This, the mould'ring clay, 

Remains. In other form the soul exists, 

Like matter, it is indestructible. 




ERE I AM DEAD. 

C^ALM may I tread life's pathway 
I fl through. 

If/ Nor envy the immortal few, 
-^^ For men will seek for great renown 
In coming years their lives to crown ; 
Enrolled upon the book of fame, 
To them it is but a sounding name ; 
Of life beyond the mystic vale 
They may not tell the wondrous tale. 
When they are dead. 



24 EKE I AM DEAD. 

When I am dead 
Seasons will, changing, onward flow, 
With blooming rose, descending snow; 
Yon brilliant sun shall shine as bright, 
The changing moon will shed her light, 
The earth revolve amidst the spheres 
Through coming, countless, fleeting years, 
And man his errors ever rue, 
But fleeting phantoms still pursue, 

When I am dead. 

When thou art dead. 
Entombed beneath the dust of ages. 
Sleeping with the saints and sages ; 
Vain man will seek for coming bliss 
Within a changing world like this ; 
For men shall be with pride elate, 
And men shall love and men shall hate, 
Some shall heap, in frenzy wild, 
Vast millions upon millions piled ; 
In gaining wealth will lie and cheat, 
And foes in hostile ranks shall meet. 
True heroes die to leave a name 
Illustrious on the roll of fame, 
And millions live a life as true 
As ever lived by me or you ! 

When thou art dead. 



AN EMBLEM. 25 

When we are dead, 
To pass through changing scenes untold, 
Shall we the mystery of life unfold; 
See Him whom mortal never saw. 
Unveil His great decrees of law ; 
Or shall we while the ages flee 
Be ever learning ; never see 
The Great Invisible to man, 
Whose wondrous works alone we scan ; 
Or view Him throughout endless years, 
In countless worlds throughout the spheres, 
Find all our doubts and all our pain 
Were but for our eternal gain ? 

When we are dead. 




AN EMBLEM. 
(Written by request for Miss Clara's album.) 

FOUND within this book a withered 

rose : 
Emblem of life, in its last sweet re- 
pose ; 

It had, like you, its joyous day of bloom, 
After its bud, yielding its rich perfume. 
It drank of sunshine of the morning dew. 
To others pleasure gave, a joy so true. 
May you like it, when life has passed away, 
Recall a fragrance that will ne'er decay. 
B2 



26 IF TRUE? 

IF TRUE? 

The SufF's teach that God was the One all beautiful. Alone is all 
eternity, who sang of love. That beauty always desires to manifest 
Itself, therefore He created the universe. They teach that all love is 
centered in Him — that we can love none other. When we think that 
we love any one else, it is not that person we love, but God. 




1 




fe^^=:=^F true, what Persian Suffi teachers 

say, 
We love no being formed from 

earthly clay ; 
The purest love we lay at beauty's shrine, 
Is worship offered to the One divine. 

If true, must Ella more than mortal be ? 
Beloved one, thou art all in all to me ! 
The burning love which in my bosom swells, 
Proves Deity within thy beauty dwells. 

If true ? 




ELLICOTTS. 

A TALE OF THE PATAPSCO. 



A TRIBUTE TO BRITAIN. 

Written in response to words of praise of America and 

the American people at the beginning of the 

Spanish War in the British Parliament. 

27 




THE ELLICOTTS FLOOD. 29 

THE ELLICOTTS FLOOD. 

HE incidents of the Ellicotts poem 
I (ft are from the narrative of an eye- 
■^ ^^^ witness, who is supposed to tell the 
story as narrated in the poem. 

In the early spring of the year 1868 there 
was an excess of rain, which continued so long 
that the Baltimore churches of a large denomi- 
nation offered up prayers that the rain might 
cease. Their prayers appeared to be an- 
swered. There came a dry season, which 
blighted all vegetation and which continued 
until nearly the close of summer. 

In the month of July the churches of 
another large body of Christians prayed for 
rain. Their prayer appears also to have 
been answered, but in a way they did not an- 
ticipate. It descended in torrents, causing on 
the 24th of July a terrible flood which swept 
the streets of Baltimore, flooding many busi- 
ness places, carrying away all the bridges but 
one, which spans a sluggish stream dividing 
East and West Baltimore. Some street cars 
were also carried away. 

But this flood descended in its wildest fury 
on Ellicotts, a city near Baltimore. Many of 






30 THE ELLJCOTTS FLOOD. 

its inhabitants lost their lives and were with 
their houses swept away. 

All prayer — even formal prayer — is laudable. 
It is an acknowledorment of an overrulino- intel- 
ligent Creator. But the most fervent prayers 
are in times of danger, joy, or affliction, when 
the soul rises spontaneously to its God, per- 
haps even without words. 

We are taught to pray for daily bread, but 
we are not taught to petition how the Creator 
is to guide the elements to give us that bread. 
When we supplicate to direct the elements as 
we desire, are we not worthy of the rebuke 
of Omar Khayyam, the Persian astronomer 
and classic poet, who wrote, ''who art Thou to 
teach and He to learn" ? 




ELLICOTTS. 



31 




ELLICOTTS. 
A TALE OF THE PATAPSCO. 

PRAYERS. 

C^TRAYER in Thy holy temples, Lord ; 
P // oh, hear 

\(] Upon Thine altars rise ! oh, lend 

^^ Thine ear 

The sacred offerings of Thy people's prayer ! 
We Thee beseech unto our cry attend, 
The falling, pouring rain, oh, let it end ! 
As thou once hearkened to Thy prophet, Lord, 
And stayed the rain of heaven upon his word. 
Then hear our voice, attend unto our call, 
Let glorious sunshine break heav'n's misty pall. 

Our prayers on high ascend, and sunny rays 
Give gladdening promise of the brighter days; 
While from afar upon each downy wing. 
With gorgeous plumage, see the birds of spring. 
Our lovely vales are dressed in richest green 
And browsing cattle on our hills are seen. 
These pleasing signs in hopeful promise tell 
Our prayers are heard and all with us is well. 

Prayers once more In Thy temples, Lord; oh, 

hear 
Upon Thine altars rise ! oh, lend Thine ear 
The supplications of Thy people's prayer ; 



32 ELLICOTTS. 

We Thee beseech unto our cry attend, 
Upon our thirsty earth let rain descend. 
The fiery sun absorbs with withering bHght, 
All herbage dies, flocks languish in our sight ; 
Then hear our voice, attend unto our call. 
Open Thy cloudy gates that rain may fall. 

'Twas thus we prayed in spring and summer 

time, 
Hoping to move the Majesty Divine. 
We would control with our weak finite mind. 
With thouorhtless wish the Infinite would bind. 
While yet perchance in careless accents run 
Thy will, oh, gracious God ! not ours, be done. 
How oft with impious haste, with rushing feet, 
We reckless bow before the mercy seat ; 
Oh, how shall we direct the erring thought, 
In holy prayer approach Thee as we ought ? 

ELLICOTTS. 

Where toiling men in peaceful homes abide. 
Through Ellicotts Patapsco's waters glide. 
The flowing stream propels her busy mills, 
While from her banks arise her granite hills. 
A small stream running from the river's foam, 
From there half circling formed an island home. 



ELLICOTTS. 33 

There childhood's voice in happy play arose, 
There tired nature found a sweet repose. 
This quiet vale in peaceful slumber lay, 
A welcome shower, marked the closing day. 

No danger's sound alarms the hours of night 
And healthy labor hails the morning light. 
No cause for fear, no reason for dismay, 
No hungry lion ambushed for his prey. 
No tiger crouching in his hidden lair, 
No foe, no pestilence, no famine there. 
There's danger oft upon the briny deep, 
Where angry billows rage and tempests sweep ! 
But ocean's waves can never reach us here, 
No shipwrecked seamen in this vale appear. 
Yet o'er us, lo! there hangs that fabled blade 
Which in mid air by single hair was stayed. 

Refreshed at morn from slumbers of the nio-ht 
Our people rise with clouded morning light. 
Some to their labors go with happy smile, 
Others with homely cares the hours beguile. 
To all in visions of the coming years 
In brightest colors what they wish appears. 
Life's path in beauty for the lovers glow. 
In dreams their future years with raptures 
flow. 

Ci 



34 ELLICOTTS. 

Many have thoughts of gold in manhood's 

prime; 
One craves for knowledge as the wealth of 

time; 
With smiling infant is the mother blessed; 
The aged man desires only rest. 
Some would from every care and trouble flee, 
And one, austere, a saint on earth would be. 
But dreams must vanish, there descends a pall, 
Ere hour of noon our crumbling dwellings fall. 

THE STORM. 

The storm has burst upon the distant hills, 
Wild waters gushing from a thousand rills; 
Gathering streamlets, swiftly rushing, glide 
To roaring torrents, down the mountain side. 
The deep and long embedded rock in wrath 
Is swept with fury from the torrent's path. 
That ancient sturdy oak, which towering stood. 
Is quick uprooted by that boiling flood. 
And flies like cannon bolt in battle fray, 
Working destruction on its onward way. 
Fiercely these seething waters foaming dash 
Amidst the thunder's peal and lightning's flash. 

Our busy workers by Patapsco's side 
Note not that higher far her waters glide. 



ELLICOTTS. 35 

The rushing flood is whirHng on amain, 
With terror wild attending on its train. 
Oh! toilers, flee before that fatal time, 
For ruin comes e'er ten of morning chime. 
Fair Caroline! Why wilt thou lingering stay? 
To welcome death is sad in thy young day. 
Oh! for a friend to tell of danger nigh, 
A warning voice to bid our people fly. 
A watcher speedeth forth, but ah, too late! 
Before him flies the messengfer of fate. 
The rushing, surging, angry waters swell 
A fearful torrent down that narrow dell. 



THE GRANITE MILLS. 

In strength and beauty stand the granite mills 
Nigh to the stream, beside those rugged hills; 
New from their builder's hand their massive 

form 
Should safely guard them from the raging 

storm. 
Yet by that onward, roaring, mighty tide 
Each well-laid stone and timber shall be tried, 
For, tow'ring high above the safety wall, 
Upon the mill the seething waters fall. 
With trees and houses on their raging breast 
Like hillocks floating on the billows' crest. 



36 ELLICOTTS. 

Oh, will it fall or firm withstand the strain 

Of those wild waters rushing toward the main? 

Standing alone upon that granite tower, 
Calm in his bearing in that fearful hour, 
A hero true, within himself a host, 
Like Roman sentry who must keep his post; 
The quivering tower 'neath his feet he feels. 
The walls are swaying, just as drunkard reels. 
On him is bent full many an anxious eye, 
In vain ; that trusted friends to him are nigh. 
No hand may succor nor can any save 
From death that solitary hero brave. 
That massive building to foundation rocks 
As if shaken, by volcanic shocks. 

Patapsco, where thy winding waters flow 
Brings mingled thoughts to me of joy and woe; 
Beside thy banks in boyhood I have played, 
And there we plighted vows, my lovely maid. 
Sweet friendship's chain by thee my soul en- 
twined. 
Forging those links which bind us to our kind. 
But as I view thy ever flowing stream 
A sadder vision comes, a darker dream, 
Where, midst scenes of death and anguish wild, 
I looked on ruin upon ruin piled. 



ELLICOTTS. 37 

Thy rushing waters, beside which I stood, 
Bearing destruction in their angry mood. 
In horror saw, nay, yet I see him still. 
That lonely man upon the granite mill. 
Its massive walls I saw, with curdling blood, 
Fall, disappear within that surging flood. 

THE TERROR. 

Our granite bulwark gone, naught now can stay 
Those raging waters on their onward way. 
From roof to roof our people madly throng, 
As houses fall before these waters strong. 
Oh, hear that cry, that shriek of wild despair! 
I cannot write all that I witnessed there. 
I saw upon our island's watery vale 
The mother quiver, heard her infant's wail ; 
Beheld the silent tear the strong man shed 
While thinkine of his dear ones' fate with dread; 
The terror pictured on each youthful face. 
The parting anguish, and the last embrace. 



THOMAS AND MARGARETHA. 

As truthful is the record of my tale, 
I mention one who lived within our vale. 
Thomas, a worthy doctor, learned and good. 
Had made his home with us before the flood. 



38 ELLICOTTS. 

In youthful days he won his charming bride, . 
Margaretha true, became his joy and pride. 
He saw a thousand maidens witching fair, 
But only one his tender love may share. 
Others with lofty souls might prove as kind, 
Around her ever was his heart entwined; 
And when he at the altar called her "Mine," 
Upon her ring engraved was "Ever Thine." 
Their passing years deep happiness impressed, 
With six fair children was their marriage blessed. 

Thrice summoned to the sick that morn to 

He noted then the rising waters flow. 
Beside his loved ones may not lingering stay. 
When duty calls her mandate must obey. 
Returning, when he reached Patapsco's side, 
From them was severed by the rising tide. 
Oh, wild his anguish! wild was his dismay 
To witness his dear home just swept away. 
He cannot aid nor unto them may fly; 
Oh, it were blessed saving them to die. 
But hope, sweet hope, revives within his 

breast. 
His home, of frame, against the next is pressed; 
Thus dwelling bound to dwelling may abide 
That rushing, raging river's mighty tide. 



ELLICOTTS. 39 

WILLIAM. 

Who is this fearless man who aids them now? 
Is he some vaHant knight with visored brow, 
Or lordly scion of some ancient race, 
Who dares with death to struggle face to face ? 
He cannot claim descent of noble birth, 
His humble lot with lowly of the earth. 
He drew his sable hue from Afric's child; 
From savage rude, perchance from chieftain 

wild; 
In youthful days he wore foul slavery's chain, 
But links upon such souls impress no stain; 
No terror can the tyrant's lash impart 
For freedom's spirit dwelleth in the heart. 
No nobler hero in this hour of need 
When crumbling walls are swaying like a reed. 
William, although thou art unknown to fame, 
I pay this tribute to thy humble name. 
Thy master's wife and children with thee there 
Are guarded with a shepherd's tender care. 
Amidst that turmoil and the wild alarm, 
Wielding thy broad axe with sinewy arm, 
Through dwelling unto dwelling cut the way. 
Where stronger dwellings may the torrent stay; 
Mother and children through each opening fly. 
And to the last are round thee clustering nigh. 



40 ELLICOTTS. 

Margaretha strains her infant to her breast, 
Another to thy manly heart is pressed. 
Till deep engulfed beneath the surging wave 
Together there, all find a watery grave. 



THE FATHER. 

In anguish deep too keen for falling tear 
The father saw all sink and disappear. 
With reason madly tott'ring on its throne 
He wildly wails for them — his lost — his own. 
We may not fathom, no tongue ever tell, 
The burning thoughts which in his spirit swell, 
For we may suffer in a second's chime 
The anguish of an age of untold time. 

Faithful, oh, Thomas, thy once youthful bride, 
Though for a season sever'd from thy side. 
When found in death with garments scarce a 

trace. 
Her child was locked in her last fond em- 
brace. 
Although dread chilly death can call her 

"Mine," 
Upon her ring engraved was "Ever Thine." 
If spirits may, hers from the realm above 
Looked down upon thee then in tender love. 



ELLICOTTS. 41 

HEROES. 

Upon a bridge above the river's flow, 
Where many strugghng victims pass below, 
Three heroes brave our people sought to save; 
A few they rescued from that watery grave. 
But midst their gallant work were forced to stay 
When trembling planks beneath their feet gave 

way. 
Thus many perish, earthly help was vain, 
Oh, who can paint the visions of their brain? 
I cannot picture nor can pencil draw 
The lines of thought and time's eternal law. 
But I may view through fancy's airy dream 
How crowding visions on their spirits stream; 
How in one instant to them may appear 
All that they passed in life through every year. 
The future bright unfolded to their view, 
Its endless life with all its glories true. 
But days for them are o'er; that raging tide 
Of conquering waters o'er the ruins glide. 

THOUGHT AND TIME. 

What thought and time are, wisdom cannot tell. 

All endless days might in a moment dwell. 

Thought infinite throughout the boundless 

spheres 

Shall flow eternal through the endless years. 
C2 



42 ELLICOTTS. 

An Eastern monarch wise, upon the strand 

Stood beside one who held a maofic wand. 

That mighty sultan, that magician old, 

Bade unto him eternity unfold. 

"Wouldst thou have wondrous visions come to 

thee? 
Then plunge, great sir, thy head into this sea." 
He, bending, dipped but for a moment's time, 
In thought afar he roamed through every clime. 
In battle fought, toiled, and wore slavery's 

chain 
For untold years, until, through age, in pain 
He died. Then stood again upon that strand 
Beside him, who still held, that magic wand, 
Who, when upbraided for that fearful time. 
Said all had passed within a second's chime. 

THE SILENT PRAYER. 

Above the river bank, on the hillside. 

Like aspens quivering, nigh that rushing tide, 

True and trusted friends, who, hovering near, 

Look on the doomed in agony of fear. 

Yon crowded room, thy bridal chamber death; 

Where many helpless stand with bated breath, 

Their thoughts, O God, ascending unto Thee; 

For them no timxe for words or bended knee; 



ELLICOTTS. 43 

No muttered speech, no forms of prayer appear, 
'Tis their souls' yearning cry which Thou wilt 

hear, 
For not in temples nor on sacred ground, 
But in the heart is purest worship found. 
From human souls Thy holiest altars rise, 
The sweetest incense reaching to the skies. 
For longer days in thought with Thee they've 

striv'n, 
And lo! eternal life to them is given. 

A CHOSEN PEOPLE. 

Hast Thou, O Lord, a chosen people here ? 
Can but a saintly few to Thee draw near? 
No! All are Thine, of every faith and clime, 
And treasured dear within a love divine. 
Creator of the myriad worlds, in spheres 
Which roll in glory through the endless years, 
When savage bows before his idol stone. 
His humble prayer ascendeth to Thy throne. 
Oh, Thou a spirit art, who bends the knee 
In heart must bow if they would worship Thee. 
Shed forth Thy light and mercy from above. 
For Thou, O God, art infinite in love. 



44 ELLICOTTS. 

THE MANGER. 

Within Jerusalem, with prophets good, 
In ancient days a gorgeous temple stood, 
Where rarest woods with gold of Ophir shone, 
There was foretold a Prince of David's throne. 
Who would thy glories, Israel, bring again. 
In peace and triumph over thee should reign. 
And when the Eastern Mao^i from afar 
Followed its course, that heavenly guiding star. 
In manger laid and not on holy ground. 
In swaddlings wrapped that wondrous babe 

was found. 
For rich attire with diamonds glittering bright 
Are nought but dross before His holy sight. 

THEY LIVE ENSHRINED. 

Althouo^h unto those rao^ino- waters niorh, 
The angel dread of death had passed me by. 
Those scenes have gone, the sun again appears, 
But where our peaceful homes of bygone years ? 
Swept by the waters of that mighty flood, 
We scarcely know where once they smiling 

stood. 
How bitter from our treasured ones to part, 
They live enshrined within our inmost heart. 
Mary and Caroline in girlhood's prime, 
Thus to be severed from the joys of time. 



A TRIBUTE TO BRITAIN. 45 

Elizabeth and thou, sweet ElHnore, 
Those pretty prattling babes of years but four. 
Why names and ages note when all were there 
From infant child to sage of silvery hair. 
They all are gone, but in Thy love secure 
Will live with Thee while endless days endure. 



A TRIBUTE TO BRITAIN FROM THE LAND OF 
WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN. 

(Written in response to a eulogy of America and the American peo- 
ple at the beginning of the late Spanish War in the English Parliament.) 

^^^^ilHY green Isles, Britannia, are dear 

Tto thee, 
Thy gems of Ocean, midst thy surg- 
' ing sea. 

Whose roaring, raging billows lash thy land 
Around thy rock-bound coast, thy silvery 

strand, 
Which mighty ships defend, on every side 
These fearless, steel-clad guardian angels glide. 
Illustrious names adorn thy History's page, 
Whose fame undying lives through every age. 
Yet not all glory is a nation's life, 
For thou hast felt the woes of civil strife. 
In raging fruitless war, thy heroes bled 
Where grow thy roses, blooming white and red.* 

* It is said on the last battlefield grow white and red roses. 



46 A TRIBUTE TO BRITAIN. . 

Though once for us were frowns upon thy 

brow, 
Thou art our orentle mother, smlHncr now. 
We hail thee, Britain, on our records stand 
Names of great men, who hailed thee Feather- 
land ; 
To thee, brave nation, now no more our foe, 
A debt of lastincr crratitude we owe. 
When we forbade the cruel hordes of Spain, 
With patriot blood our western world to stain, 
Thy magic wand bade hostile nations stay, 
And frowning rulers hastened to obey. 
Round red and white and starry blue combined 
Thy thistle, rose, and shamrock were entwined 

Though at no royal shrine we bend the knee, 
Britain's loved Queen we honor, bow to thee. 
Exalted far above all regal state, 
Thou stainless ruler of a people great ; 
A purer monarch never ruled thy land 
Than thou who sways her sceptre in thy hand. 
We never seek to conquer to enslave, 
We fear not fiercest foe nor nations brave. 
Rich in our mines, our plains and rivers grand 
We toil, but covet not our neighbor's land ; 
And when unfurled our starry flag shall be 
Oppression's scourge, defender of the free. 



SKETCHING AND PAINTING: 

THEIR ANTIQUITY, LANGUAGE. AND TEACHINGS. 

47 




SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 49 

SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 
THEIR ANTIQUITY, LANGUAGE, AND TEACHINGS. 

RCHE arts of sketching and painting are 

T // among the most ancient. No record 

* \n exists of their birth or infancy, for 

•^^ they belong to the misty Past, hav- 
ing existed long before the dawn of history. 
Literature and the Sciences impart to their 
students knowledge and the power of thought, 
but the Fine Arts impart a refinement purely 
their own. The man who would make himself 
master of the world's literature, to be thorough, 
must acquire its many languages ; Art, how- 
ever, needs no linguist to translate its teach- 
ings and unfold its beauties, for it speaks 
through the eye to men of every land. It has 
one universal lancruaee — there is no confusion 
of tongues. To the student of Art every pic- 
ture has its own lesson to unfold. If he pos- 
sesses a picture, no matter how crude, sketched 
or painted in the long-forgotten past, it will tell 
its own tale. The rude artist who once traced 
it ; the language of the people to whom he be- 
longed ; nay, even that people, may have passed 
away from the memory of man, yet that crude 
sketch will narrate something of their story. 

Di 



50 • SKETCHINC AND PAINTING. ' 

What is true of one picture is in a larger 
sense true also of those of various nations. 
The paintings of each teach their own lesson, 
telling of the manner of life, the customs and 
costumes of their people, and their religious 
beliefs. The Italian artist in elowing- colors 
paints the robes and the emblems of the faith 
of his fathers ; his canvas is adorned with 
heavenly, angelic visitants, bearing their mes- 
sage of glad news to man, and also with the 
saints of his faith, around whose heads he 
clusters innumerable rays of light, forming 
ethereal crowns, each of which is far more 
beautiful than that of any earthly monarch. 
In contrast to his Italian brother the artist of 
Holland or of Scotland portrays a simpler but 
sterner faith. 

IDEAL COMBINATIONS. 

Usine the word '' create " in its primitive 
meaning, neither the painter nor the author 
can create anything ; they can only paint or 
describe conceptions founded on Nature. They 
may by brush or word unfold some strange 
combinations of the real, mingling in their 
sketches various lineaments of Nature. Yet, 
although they cannot create, their combina- 



SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 5 I 

tions of the wild, the terrible, and the beau- 
tiful are to the beholder a source of endless 
interest and of pleasure. Their weird, fan- 
tastic pencil or word-sketch quickens the intel- 
lect of their votaries, and thus improves them. 
Any one who is merely a realist is an unin- 
teresting person. The poet Campbell thus 
poetically describes the ideal combination of 
a Rhodian painter: 



When first the Rhodian's mimic art array'd 
The Queen of Beauty in her Cyprian shade, 
The happy master mingled on his piece 
Each look that charm'd him in the fair of 

Greece. 
To faultless Nature true, he stole a grace 
From every finer form and sweeter face, 
And, as he sojourn'd on the y^gean isles, 
Woo'd all their love, and treasured all their 

smiles ; 
Then glow'd the tints, pure, precious, and re- 
fined, 
And mortal charms seem'd heavenly when com- 
bined : 
Love on the picture smiled! Expression pour'd 
Her mingling spirit there ! — and Greece adored ! 



52 SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 

TWO DIFFERENT VIEWS OF A PICTURE— IDEAL AND 

REALISTIC. 

The canvas of some great artist, such as 
Michael Angelo, Raphael, or Murillo, may pre- 
sent to our view the beautiful conception of an 
ano-el. We o^aze with wonder and admiration 
upon the picture of the heavenly inhabitant, and 
our imagination, soaring above earth, lifts us 
in spirit to its glorious abode. In vision we 
see the wall of that City whose foundations 
are "garnished with all manner of precious 
stones." We walk through the golden streets, 
by the river of life, clothed in robes of white, 
and join before the great Throne in the eternal 
song of praise. While these thoughts fleet 
through our brain, were it not for the com- 
mand, "See thou do it not," we would almost 
bow in adoration before the lovely image on 
the painter's canvas. At last we awaken from 
our enraptured dream to the real in life. The 
spiritual being has vanished, and our angel as- 
sumes to our now realistic vision a new form ; 
it is of the earth earthy — still indeed beautiful, 
but made up of incongruities. In form and 
feature it resembles a most lovely woman 
adorned with the winors of a laro^e bird. We 
turn away from the great painting muttering 



SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 53 

*' How absurd!" while memory perhaps recalls 
the satirical description by Lord Byron of an 
angel : 

''Waving a goodly wing, which glowed, as 
glows 
An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly 
dyes." 

But why should he thus criticise this work of 
the artist? The poet may satirize the grand 
conception of the painter, but he himself meets 
a similar fate when some dabbler in verse writes 
a parody on one of his finest poems : we can 
never afterward read his sublime lines without 
that wretched parody spoiling their beauty. It 
is narrated of Napoleon Bonaparte that when 
he looked upon the miserable routed remnant 
of that Grand Army which he led forth in glory 
to achieve the conquest of Russia, he exclaimed, 
"There is but one step from the sublime to the 
ridiculous !" It is not best to dwell too much 
upon the absurd side of life, nor to view every- 
thing from a realistic standpoint. To forbid 
the author or the artist the privilege of their 
beautiful flights of fancy, or even of their wild 
and weird pictures of the imagination, would 
deprive us of one of our chief pleasures. 



54 SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 

THE ARTISTS FIELD FOR WORK. 

Like everything earthly, the scope for the 
work of the artist's pencil and brush has its 
limits. No one can paint a spirit except it be 
clothed with some material form — for man can- 
not conceive of anything that is not in some way 
connected with matter. Who can fully read 
the soul of his dearest friend ! Cranch truly 
says, 

" We are spirits clad in veils : 

Man by man was never seen ; 
All our deep communing fails 
To remove the shadowy screen." 

Yet, although we cannot see the naked soul, 
we can perceive many of its workings when 
clothed with this garb of flesh. To portray 
these workings is the province of the painter. 
When our spirits are stirred by any strong 
emotion, the expression of our faces will gen- 
erally inform even the careless observer from 
what passion that emotion springs ; he will 
easily determine by a single glance whether it 
comes from hope or fear, love or hate, joy or 
sorrow. The nature of the vital principle 
within us may also be determined by our ac- 



SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 55 

tlons and conversation. But the most clever 
artist cannot produce a picture of our soul 
when it quits its earthy tenement. 

Although the scope for the painter's pencil 
is, as we have said, limited, yet in another 
sense it may be considered to be almost infin- 
ite. The whole material universe within the 
range of the artist's vision, as far as his eye 
can discern, is his ; through all this vast field 
his thoughts and fancy can roam at pleasure, 
his spirit drinking in the very soul of Nature. 
He produces on his canvas, as his own moods 
may vary, her frowns and smiles. The mate- 
rial of which his skill may avail itself is so vast 
that, were all the human race to become artists, 
they could only use of it a very small portion. 
Nature, as far as the discoveries of man have 
unfolded it, is an ever-changing quantity— an 
endless panorama. If we may compare "great 
things by small," we would liken it to a vast 
kaleidoscope exhibiting " a never-ending series 
of beautiful images." In producing a picture 
of one of Nature's eternally dissolving views 
the great artist manifests his skill. He may 
have only caught the gleam of an eye, the 
smile upon a beautiful lip, or a ray of sunshine 
in some secluded glen ; but that gleam of the 



56 



SKETCHING AND PAINTING. 



eye, that smile upon the beautiful lip, or that 
sunlit ray, when reproduced may make the pic- 
ture immortal. A thing once seen may never 
again be beheld by a human eye — for in the 
work of the Creator there is no sameness. 




SONGS. 

PATRIOTIC, SENTIMENTAL, AND SEMI-COMIC. 

D2 57 



PVE WERE DAUNTLESS YOUNG MEN THEN. 59 

WE WERE DAUNTLESS YOUNG MEN THEN. 

A BATTLE SONG OF THE REPUBLIC. 

(Dedicated to the Men who Saved the Nation.) 

ITH our starry banners streaming, 
Bayonets in the sunbeams gleaming, 
With martial music's thrilling ilow, 
While marchine on to meet the foe : 



w 

?f 



Tens of thousands hailed us gladly, 
Cheering, shouting wildly ! madly ! 
With thrilling hearts, all fire aglow. 
While marching on to meet the foe. 

We were dauntless young men then. 
We were daring young men then. 

Where the hissino^ shells were screaminor 
And the life blood fast was streaming ; 
The fire of conflict in each eye, 
While clouds of deadly missiles fiy : 
Four summers' suns, four winters' snows, 
We sternly fought our gallant foes : 
Homeward then with joy returning 
All our hearts on fire a-burning. 

We were dauntless young men then, 
We were joyful young men then. 



6o J^FE WERE DAUNTLESS YOUNG MEN THEN. 

Yet amidst our songs of gladness, 
There were tender notes of sadness, 
While our bayonets dimmed were gleaming, 
Over faces tears were streaming, 
For the loved ones left behind, 
For our heroes left behind. 
Now our battle flags are tattered 
And our boys are shattered, scattered, 
With silvery locks and wrinkled brow, 
They all are only old men now. 

With silvery locks and wrinkled brow, 
They all are only old men now. 

Still we love to tell the story 
Of our banner furled in glory: 
For human rights o'er land and sea 
Forever float that emblem free, 
When we have crossed the mystic line 
Which bounds the span of earthly time. 
Stained with blood our heroes gave it, 
Children's children still shall wave it. 
They would perish to defend it. 
Foes shall never, never rend it. 

They are dauntless young men now, 
They are daring young men now. 




^§*^l»i *, '"^ 




THE SONG. 
My mother heart would hail with joy 
My loved, my lost, my wand' ring boy. — Page 6i. 




MV LOVED, MY LOST, MY WAND' RLNG BOY. 6 1 

MY LOVED, MY LOST, MY WAND' RING BOY. 

MOTHER. 

;Y husband loved, by girl and boy, 
In early years how pure my joy. 
Two cherished ones have eone to 
rest, 

One breathed her last on mother's breast ; 
My only son is lost to me 
On distant shore or raging sea ; 
Thus drear and lonely is my lot, 
With fruo-al fare and humble cot. 

Oh ! how my heart would thrill with joy 
To welcome home my wand'ring bo}^ 
My Mother heart would hail with joy 
My loved, my lost, my wand'ring boy. 

SON. 

Away from thee, away from home. 
Through many changing scenes I roam ; 
While wand'ring far o'er land and sea 
I never failed to think of thee. 
When trouble came, with passion tossed, 
And every glimpse of heav'n was lost; 
Then pointing to ''the gates ajar," 
Thy love was still my guiding star. 



62 CAN THIS BE JOE, MY LONG-LOST JOE ? 

Then pointing to ''the gates ajar," 
Thy love was still my guiding star. 
Through dreary wastes, in wilds afar, 
Thy love was still my guiding star. 

Full weary of a world of strife, 
I come to cheer thy lonely life, 
With gains enough to yield us joy, 
Oh! welcome back thy wand'ring boy. 
My wand' rings over to life's close, 
Our years will pass in calm repose. 
In viewing heav'n through "gates ajar," 
Thy love shall be my guiding star. 

In viewing heav'n through "gates ajar," 
Thy love shall be my guiding star. 
In dreary wastes, 'midst wilds afar. 
Thy love has been my guiding star. 



CAN THIS BE JOE, MY LONG-LOST JOE? 
HEN parted from my early love 
I thought I would have died. 
As blithe a lad as ever roamed 
Along the mountain side. 
Oh ! he was dashing, brave, and free ; 

I dearly loved my Joe, 
And all the world seemed lost to me 
When father bade him go. 




WHAT HARRY PROMISED ME. 63 

And all the world seemed lost to me 
When father bade him ofo. 

Last eve I heard when passing by 

A name, which still hath charms, 
Of bloated man with bleary eye ; 

That name ! my heart alarms. 
Can this be Joe, my long-lost Joe ? 

For whom I grieved so ever, 
With red-tipped nose and gouty toes, 

I won't believe it — never ! 
Dear Joe, I thought not so ; 
Dear Joe, it can't be so ! 

With red-tipped nose and gouty toes, 
I won't believe it — -never ! 
Dear Joe, I thought not so ; 
Dear Joe, it can't be so ! 




WHAT HARRY PROMISED ME. 

IC^N wedded bliss he promised 
// Our happy hours would flee, 
in Only pleasures in our home 
^^^ That Harry promised me ; 
To live in stately mansion, 

With lawn and garden room. 
Where richest fruits would cluster, 
Choicest flowers would bloom. 



64 CAN THIS BE MAY? 

In this mansion fair to see 
I would always happy be, 
Was what Harry promised me. 

This blissful promised future — 

From dear lips, Harry, thine — 
That joyous life you pictured 

Was never to be mine ; 
Thy fervent love soon vanished. 

Deserted then by thee ; 
This hut is not the mansion 

Which Harry promised me. 




CAN THIS BE MAY? 

^N youthful prime I loved a maid, 
Her smile like morning ray ; 
With graceful step and fairy form. 
My charming, lovely May. 
In woe I left that winsome lass, 

With choking sighs we parted. 
Never to meet again, we sighed. 
And we were broken hearted. 

Never to meet again we sighed, 
And we were broken hearted. 



CAN THIS BE MAY? 65 

I oft have quaffed the cup of joy, 

The cup of trouble, too, 
For choicest fruit and bitter herbs 

Along my pathway grew. 
Another's smile, another's love, 

Hath charmed my manhood's day ; 
The image of a long passed dream, 

My gentle, blooming May. 

The image of a long passed dream. 
My gentle, blooming May. 

While musing thus of youthful days 

I passed an aged dame. 
An early friend, with breathing low. 

Whispered a once loved name. 
Can this be May, with wrinkled brow. 

With feeble step and slow ; 
The girl I loved with golden locks, 

Some fifty years ago ? 

The girl I loved with golden locks, 
Some fifty years ago. 

Oh ! thus the fiower of youth will pass 

And beauty fade away ; 
The winsome lass we dote upon 

Is doomed to Time's decay. 

Ei 



66 WITHIN THE GARDEN GATE. 

I pine no more, for vanished long 
That youthful, loving spell, 

Yet memory of those bygone days 
Within my heart will dwell. 

Yet memory of those bygone days 
Within my heart will dwell. 




WITHIN THE GARDEN GATE. 
JONATHAN. 

"^ WOULD love to marry Jeanie, 
T yl But nights would seem too long 

,J/ For to hear her always singing 
^"^^ Her never-ending song. 

Would be waiting for my coming 

If I tarried out too late ; 
She would listen for my footsteps 
Within the garden gate. 

You could never equal Jeanie 

Among the lassies fair, 
Though many of them beautiful, 

None can with her compare. 
She truly is the sweetest lass 

Who dwells in Cupid's bower; 
I will surely marry Jeanie 

If she has a dower ! 



CHAINED. 67 

MISS JEANIE. 

You shall never marry Jeanle. 

What ! let the nei^rhbors see 
An old wretch crawling, creeping- in 

With his sneaky latch key ? 
You shall never marry Jeanie, 

She never cared for you ; 
She will choose a laddie faithful, 

Whose heart is ever true. 

The tinkling of the wine glasses 

When winter nights are long, 
Not the voice of bonnie lasses 

To you the sweetest song ; 
You shall never marry Jeanie, 

Your love is onlv rot, 
You shall never marry Jeanie, 

You old conceited sot ! 



CHAINED 



le 



T 



OVE is a vision of the brain, 

LBy nature planted there, 
There's only one we dote upon 
' 'Midst thousands brave or fair. 
We might unclasp all other bonds. 
Like prisoners then be free. 



68 CHAINED. 

But there is one to whom we're chained 
Wherever we may be. 

Ah ! there is one to whom we're chained 
Wherever we may flee. 

No dungeon can our spirits bind, 

Our visions free as air 
To wander far in distant lands 

And seek obhvion there. 
But parted from the one we love, 

Our bonds shall still remain, 
For love can weave its brittle web 

Stronger than iron chain. 

For love can weave its brittle web 
Stronger than iron chain. 

Oh ! what a tyrant love can be 

With fetters strong to bind. 
Unseen its adamantine chain, 

With which it mrds mankind. 
Oh ! what rending of our souls 

To burst its magic spell. 
When to the idol of our youth 

We breathe our last farewell. 

When to the idol of our youth 
We breathe our last farewell. 




THE FIANCEE. 
For love can weave its brittle web 
Stronger than iron chains. — Page 68. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

A TALE OF FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND WAR. 

69 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 7 1 

A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

A Tale of Friendship, Love, and War. 

THE HERO OF THE TALE. 

sJ^^ENRY G was a strange char- 

\X mT acter in the affairs of life : he was an 
^\ Q\ active, practical man, yet possessing 
^^^^^^^^^^ so much of the quiet spirit of the 
philosopher that no event, no matter how im- 
portant or even alarming it might be, seemed 
to disturb the even tenor of his thoughts. The 
observer might say, "This man is a stoic," but 
those who were acquainted with him and had 
a clearer insight into his character knew that 
this apparent stoicism was only on the surface, 
and that a strong human sympathy pervaded 
every fibre of his being. " What a calm, con- 
tented life," thought I, when I first made his 
acquaintance, **he must have led!" I did not 
then know his history, and had, therefore, about 
him to learn that 

*'The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er: 
So calm are we when passions are no more." 

We met occasionally in our every-day life 
and sometimes spent an hour together dis- 
cussing passing events, the wonders of science, 



72 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

or the works of authors of ancient and of 
modern times. One day our conversation 
turned upon the writings of the poet Keats. 
"What a wonderful hne of his that is," said I: 

"'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.' 

It haunts my brain ; I cannot forget it ; I find 
myself repeating it again and again. What 
does Keats mean ? If a thing of beauty pro- 
duces endless joy, why may not a beautiful 
person also produce lasting joy ?" I was so 
engrossed with my own soliloquy that I did 
not perceive the effect which my words had on 
my philosophic friend until I heard him ex- 
claim, " No, no ! beauty does not produce last- 
ing joy." Rising from where he was seated, 
he turned quickly away and left without even 
bidding me good-by. His unceremonious de- 
parture and emotion over a trifling observation 
so surprised me that I could scarcely realize 
that he was gone. 

When we met again a few days later, all 
his excitement had disappeared and he seemed 
once more the same calm philosopher which I 
had hitherto supposed him to be. He apol- 
ogized for his late abrupt departure. **I fre- 
quently persuade myself," said he, "that I 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 



73 



have completely mastered the passions that 
once filled my soul ; but the truth is, that not- 
withstanding my philosophy, even yet the 
smouldering fires of my youth will sometimes 
burst into a new flame." 

At my earnest solicitation he narrated the 
story of his life. As he told it to me, I have 
written it out for your entertainment, my 
reader. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 



HENRY G- 




Part L 



-'S STORY. 



YOUTHFUL DAYS. 

C^flFE'S pictured scenes, how beautiful 
I // they seem 

If) In youthful days ! In fancy's fairy 
^^ dream 

All earthly joys in brightest colors glow, 
While fleeting hours with blissful pleasures 

flow ; 
Nature appears all lovely to our sight. 
The frost of time those early joys may blight, 
But memory will always treasure dear 
The vanished raptures of each bygone year : 

E2 



74 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

Our souls enshrine those happy hours of youth, 
So full of fancy, wonder, love, and truth ; 
Nor can our after pleasures e'er repay 
For lost illusions of our early day. 
Within that dream-land lived I, as a child, 
And there the morning dawn of life beguiled. 

MY MOTHER. 

I was my mother's pensive, froward boy: 
For me was all her trouble, all her joy. 
Her tender love, — such love as mothers know, 
The purest, truest flame that earth can show, — 
That yearning love of my sweet mother mild 
Would shield, from dreadful War, her wayward 

child ; 
For longing I had yearned In early life 
To mingle In the fields of martial strife, 
And emulate In battle's conflict dire 
Heroic deeds of my Illustrious sire, 
Who, brave, had fallen In the glorious fray 
Leading his men where triumph crowned the 

day; 
Leaving a name amongst that gallant band 
Who, conquering, perish for their native land. 

To change this spirit of my youthful dream, 
Sweet human love was still my mother's theme : 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 75 

She prayed a truer light my soul might raise, 
And pleasant, peaceful labor fill my days, 
Weaning me from the thoughts of blood afar, 
The gilded trappings of triumphant war, 
The love of conquest, of a warrior's name. 
The grand illusion of a hero's fame, 
And anchor me on Heaven's eternal plan. 
Unfoldinor love to God from love to man ; 
Her yearning cry, my heart with love to bind, 
That I micrht live the friend of human kind, 
uprose her gentle voice, her fervent prayer. 
In vain : where glory called, my soul was there. 

With dreams of war thus passed my youthful 

day, 
My gentle mother fading fast away. 
I saw her languid form, her drooping eye, — 
I loved, but never thought that death was nigh; 
And when one night she stood beside my bed. 
And with her boy for nobler thoughts she 

plead. 
My heart was hard ; but from her holy calm 
.Came tenderness, and to my soul a balm. 
She, bending o'er me, that sweet mother dear, 
Bedewed my cheek with many a falling tear, 
And with a dying kiss almost divine 
She breathed her gentle spirit into mine, 



J 6 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

And there, reclining o'er me, on my bed, 
My nearest, dearest, earthly friend lay dead. 

SCHOOLED TO THE SUBLIME. 

I will not tell the story of my grief. 

My pent-up woe which could not find relief; 

But I was changed: no more the thoughtless 

boy. 
The dreams of war no more my days employ ; 
I learned to read the philosophic page, 
And Nature's open book my thoughts en- 
gage ;— 
With my new spirit and my altered mind 
Became the friend and helper of my kind, 
I learned to prize the beautiful and grand, — 
The dear enchantments of my native land : 
What joy to hear, upon that rock-bound shore, 
Wild Ocean's storms, her angry billows' roar ; 
To see far, far around her dark rocks play 
The lightning's flash amidst her dashing spray. 

And thus my soul was schooled to the sublime 
Midst vast upheavals of some ancient time : 
For I was born where Nature's cliffs are piled 
In frowning, tow' ring, rugged grandeur wild, 
Whose stately forms and dusky shades are seen, 
Telling what is, repeating what has been ; 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 7/ 

Bearinor aoraln in sweet remembrance round 
Each dying echo and each long-lost sound. 
Here, in the bud of life, in Spring's young 

day. 
My youthful hours were wafted on their way, 
With scarce enough of hidden care to know 
This briorht and beauteous world contained a 

woe ; 
No cloud upon my azure sky was seen. 
My blooming bliss was lost midst vernal green. 

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 

When mother died, and my first grief was o'er, 
I found a friend to comfort me once more. 
O Edgar ! in that hour of youth how free. 
How joyous was the converse held with thee 
When, linked together by that sacred flame 
Which blendeth soul with soul, — sweet Friend- 
ship's name ! 
Oft, when the studies of the day were o'er, 
We wandered free along that sea-girt shore. 
Or rambled far, from mountain unto glen. 
To stray secluded from the haunts of men. 
And pledged no coming storm or future strife 
Should ever mar the concord of our life : 
For friendship's chain in golden color shone, — 
The baser metal was to me unknown. 



78 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

Thus, from my boyhood unto manhood's dawn, 
In pleasant converse early years fled on, 
When, o'er the day-dream of my youth there 

came. 
With thoughts of happy home, a tender flame, 
A dream of Eden ; — of a lovely form 
Which would earth's fairest palaces adorn, — 
A being made for me, and only mine. 
Whom in my inmost heart I would en- 
shrine, 
Who should my very life, my all control. 
And ever be the centre of my soul. 

While musing thus, there passed before my 

sight 
A vision glorious as the morning light : 
A child of earth, but oh, how heavenly fair ! 
Hers was a form of wondrous beauty rare. 
Enthralled I stood; my soul was in a maze, 
Feeling that I could there unceasing gaze, 
To drink deep draughts from love's delicious 

stream. 
And live forever in enchanted dream. 
Oft the sweet thrill of rapture I have felt 
While on the beautiful my soul hath dwelt, — 
All that in nature or in art adorns, 
Earth's fairest images, her grandest forms, — 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 79 

But naught so lovely ever met my sight 
As she, who thrilled me with a pure de- 
light. 
Oh could I paint! — but no, all art were vain 
To bring that living picture back again ! 
Her lovely form is graven in my breast. 
And there forever must her ima^-e rest. 

She passed. Within her home and by her 

side 
I wooed, I won fair Ellen for my bride. 
Naught could my loving ardor then control, 
I throned her deity within my soul, 
And knelt and worshipped at that lovely 

shrine. 
Deeming the image to be all divine ; 
Believing in that maiden, witching fair, 
Full every grace and virtue must be there, 
Not counting she was but a child of clay, 
The bright illusion of my youthful day ; 
Like Keats, I could not bliss from beauty 

sever, 
"A thing of beauty" seemed "a joy forever." 
Within her thrall I to her faults was blind. 
Counting her beauty index of her mind ; 
How could I dream, within a form so fair, 
A faithless spirit found its dwelling there? 



8o A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

Bliss keeps no record, notes no dally chime, 
Alike a moment or an age of time ; 
Sorrow's slow creeping hours will numbered go, 
Joy drinks the sweets which from life's pleas- 
ures flow. 
I passed with Ellen months of calm delight, 
Cared not to measure time nor mark his 

flight : 
How pure the bliss of our first youthful love ! 
Scarce purer may the blessed feel above. 
My life seemed hallowed by a heavenly light. 
Like some fair passing vision of the night. 
Lifting my soul to live with angel kind. 
That came and went, but left me here behind. 
A time of Eden unto each is given, 
Then we are banished from that earthly 
heaven. 

Few of the finer feelings may we trace 
Where sloth and ignorance afflict our race ; 
In cultured natures, in the more refined. 
The keener felt the anguish of the mind. 
Had I been born within some lowly cot. 
And life's hard struggle been my early lot. 
Or wealth not flowed on me in golden stream, 
My youth would not have passed in fancy's 
dream, 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS, 8 1 

In love and friendship would have less believed, 
Nor fondly trusted to have been deceived, 
And, better fitted for a world of strife, 
Calmer had flowed the current of my life. 

Edgar, my early friend I deemed so true, 

I parted from e'er I my Ellen knew. 

But, when he came again, once more we 

strayed 
By those loved haunts where in our youth we 

played ; 
And with my friend and Ellen by my side. 
We roamed afar the verdant valley wide. 
While Edgar told of scenes in distant land. 
Of lovely fruitful plains and mountains grand. 
Of passes narrow, in a rugged dell 
Blood-dyed, where many gallant heroes fell ; 
And Ellen wondered while each tale he told. 
Of modern valor and of deeds of old, — 
Listened with bated breath and eye of flame. 
Of fields that daring won in freedom's name ; 
And when, with altered mood, his theme 

would change 
To happy scenes where youthful pleasures 

range, — 
Of joyous song, of dance and minstrel's lay, 
In festive halls where beauty held the sway, 

Fi 



82 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

Her soul, responsive to his every tone, 
Would, thirsting, languish for these joys un- 
known. 

From purest love our keenest pang will 

spring ; 
We to our bosoms press the blissful sting: 
For who the beauty of the rose would scorn 
Because beneath it grows the prickly thorn ? 
Oh, what is life, if love no longer smile ! — 
Not all earth's riches could our days beguile; 
Without its magic light e'en heaven were 

drear, 
Vain were the glories of that holy sphere ; 
Or if within that pictured region's* gloom 
Where erring, chastened spirits meet their 

doom, ^~ 

The purest love were there. Its fires would 

glow 
With flames of burning bliss, and not of woe ; 
Not all the riches of the salty main. 
Love lost, could bring life's pleasures back 

again. 

There came a sudden change, I knew not 

how : 
A dark cloud gathered on fair Ellen's brow, 

* Dante's Inferno. 




WITHOUT A CLOUD. 
From purest love our keenest pang will spring, 
We to our bosoms press the blissful sting ; 
For who the beauty of the rose would scorn 
Because beneath it grows the prickly thorn ? — Page 82. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 83 

Then passed away, and as in days gone by 
I saw the love-light gleaming in her eye ; 
When trustingly her welcome smile I woo, 
Then came that cloud again, and blacker grew. 
A moment's sunshine, or a flickering lamp, 
A gleam of warmth, then dark and chilly 

damp; 
And when I sought her clouded brow to clear 
With loving words which once she liked to 

hear, 
A rigid living statue cold she stood, 
An icicle to me, in her strange mood : 
All beautiful, each grace without alloy. 
But to my frozen soul she brought no joy. 
Thus wild and tender thoughts o'er me had 

power. 
And love and frenzy ruled each passing hour. 
A cruel doubt will plant the fiercest sting, 
The sharpest anguish from a joy will spring: 
With Ellen's smile the world to me was 

bright, 
But from her frown there came a withering 

blight. 
At this the sage may smile, the cynic stare. 
But human passions rule this world of care : 
Beginning with our birth, they scarce decay 
Till life's last closing hour has passed away. 



84 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

On whirlwind tempests passion oft will ride, 
But reason's province always is to guide. 

Days many fleeting go, — we note them not ; 
In life there is a day that's ne'er forgot, — 
Within our very souls its memories burn, 
Through after years its scathing thoughts 

return ; 
Like blazing comet in eternal flight, 
It wends its endless way and sheds its light ; 
If dark that day, its shadow casts a gloom 
O'er life's bright way which withers early 

bloom : 
Such unto me my promised nuptial day. 
When faithless friend and loved one fled away. 

I cannot draw that scene ; its thought still 

flows 
With fire, as crater's molten lava glows : 
I felt the grief of ages o'er me roll, 
Burning my youth, my life, my very soul. 
Till, tearing from my heart the treasured flame 
Of faithless love and friendship, I became — 
A cynic ? — no ! a cynic be who can, 
For I was formed to love my fellow man, — 
Became a weary man, unfit for strife. 
Unfit to mingle in the joys of life. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 85 

What scenes within our days can fate provide ! 

In after time I stood by Ellen's side : 

How changed ! — a meekness o'er her spirit 

passed, 
Bending-, as lily bendeth to the blast ; 
Her eye, once vying with the peerless gem, 
Drooped like a flower severed from its stem : 
For o'er her lustre and her youthful bloom 
Was cast the shadow of an early tomb. 
Virtues unseen will bud beneath His rod. 
For the crushed spirit turneth to its God. 

Beneath a little mound of new-heaped clay 
Her first-born, only son in slumber lay ; 
While he who gladly hailed her as his bride 
Had basely fled before their infant died. 
Cold in that grave, in my deep sorrow wild 
I laid fair Ellen by her buried child : 
Resting in slumber sweet beneath the sod, 
Within the care and mercy of their God. 
And now in silence I will draw the veil 
Forever o'er this portion of my tale. 

Part II. 

war's illusions dispelled. 

To all unknown, a passion, sages tell. 
Slumbering deep in countless hearts will dwell ; 



S6 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

Although unfelt, such passion when possessed, 
And springing from some fierce forefather's 

breast 
Who Hved, perchance, a thousand years be- 
fore, 
May wake to Hfe within our hearts once more. 
And this might be : with thrilling nerves I 

know 
The thirst for war within my soul would glow. 
When men unfaithful to a nation's trust 
Would hurl fair freedom's banner to the dust. 
O Freedom ! ever precious in my sight, 
Thy noble heroes were my soul's delight ! 
My heart has throbbed exultant to thy name, 
And I have worshipped at thy altar's flame ; 
Thy spirit's light has kindled in mine eye. 
And I for thee enrolled have dared to die. 



FORT SUMTER. 

Hailed by the foeman's fiercest ringing yell, 
Our flag, which floated free o'er Sumter, fell ; 
The nation rose again to place it high 
Or with their blood its silken threads to dye. 
From Rocky Mountains' heights to Oceans' 

main 
In wrath they came to wash away that stain. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. S'/ 

And that dear flao^ with folds ao^ain unfurled 
To float as freedom's emblem for the world. 
Thy teachings, O my mother ! where were 

they ? — 
By me forgotten on that muster-day ; 
For beautiful it seemed, that banner bright, — 
Symbol of law, of freedom, and of right. 

WAR. 

O War ! how terrible thy ranks appear ! — 
Thy charging columns with their ringing 

cheer ; 
Thy bloody sod ; the raging, deadly strife 
Of soldier thirsting for a soldier's life ; 
Thy glitt'ring steel, thy hissing, shrieking 

shells, 
Thy roaring gun, whose smoky thunder 

swells ; 
The heaps of slaughtered on that fatal day ; 
The wounded, dying midst thy surging fray, 
Writhing in agony amongst the dead. 
While yelling foemen fiercely o'er them tread: 
The love of dear ones never more to share, 
With unquenched thirst, they bravely perish 

there. 
There may be glory for the conquering host, 
But for the vanquished when the field is lost 



88 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

There are no laurels — this the sum of all : 
Rout, blood-stained garments for their funeral 
pall. 

THE PRISON-PEN. 

Nigh to a struggling charger dying there, 
Beside a putrid corse which taints the air, 
Wounded, upon that battle-field laid low, 
I was made captive by the vaunting foe, — 
In that fraternal, cruel, fearful strife, 
Where brother foemen sought their brothers' 

life,— 
And long immured within their prison-pen. 
That filthy, loathsome tomb of living men : 
Its horrid, deadly stench, our scanty food. 
The crawling vermin feeding on our blood ; 
With tattered garments and with unkempt 

hair. 
Pale breathing skeletons we huddled there. 
O hours of youth ! where are thy visions 

now 
Of conquering banners and of laurelled brow. 
Of deeds of valor e'er the set of sun 
Heralded records of thy triumph won ? 
Through war's stern lesson they have passed 

away, — 
Those bright illusions of my boyhood day. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 89 

Time crawled. Exchanged from prison I was 

free ; 
But oh, what then was Hberty to me ! — 
Borne to my home, a wreck, with feeble 

breath, 
In pain, to struggle hard for life with death ! 
But healing came, and, casting off my load, 
A healthy vigor through my sinews flowed ; 
While o'er my days there crept a tranquil rest. 
And hope returning throbbed within my 

breast. 
Too long the story of my life to tell ; 
On after peaceful years I will not dwell. 
In time, a loving wife upon me smiled. 
And children fair my quiet days beguiled ; 
Friendship again around me wove her chain, 
And beauty, joy, and love resumed their reign. 

Part III. 
PEACE CAME. 

Peace came. It was a thrilling sight to see 
Our flag, redeemed, o'er Sumter floating free. 
From Rocky Mountains* heights to Oceans' 

main 
The people hailed that flag without a stain. 
Their country safe, with liberty and law. 

While nations gazed in wonder and in awe. 
F2 



90 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

All honor give to that heroic band 
Who fought through fire to save dear Free- 
dom's land ! 
Of those whose names shall live on history's 

page, 
Whose fame resoundeth far, from age to age, 
I honored many, name but one bright star. 
Whose loving heart would check thy horrors, 

War! 
Lincoln, immortal Chief, — not nobler name 
In all the annals of our nation's fame : 
Who guided safely through that raging flood. 
And sealed our country's freedom with his 

blood. 
Our flag shall wave, o'er all our land unfurled^ 
The beacon-sign of freedom for the world. 

Though tranquil are my closing years of life, 
No billows surging and no inward strife, 
I would not wish, like Pennsylvania's sage, 
To live again my days from youth to age.* 
O Franklin ! though none wiser of thy race, 
Remove a blot another may deface ; 

* ** When I reflect, as I frequently do, upon the felicity I have 
enjoyed, I sometimes say to myself that, were the offer made me, I 
would engage to run again, from beginning; to end, the same career 
of life. All I would ask should be the privilege of an author, to cor- 
rect in a second edition certain errors of the first." — Benj. Franklin. 




LINCOLN, immortal chief — not nobler name 
In all tlie annals of our nation's fame ; 
Who guided safely through that raging flood, 
And sealed our country's freedom with his blood. 



-Page 90. 



A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 9 1 

To change thy course upon Hfe's stormy sea 

Would not from coming error rescue thee. 

Avoid the main where we were tempest- 
tossed, 

And lo ! the current of our Hves is lost ; 

Steer clear the shoals where we were wrecked 
before, 

We strike on hidden rock, on unknown shore ; 

For oh, upon life's ever-shifting tide 

Are dangers new where'er our bark may 
glide ! 

We live, upon this earth of constant change 
From centre unto highest mountain-range, 
As though it ever rolled amidst the spheres 
Unchanged, unchangeable, through deathless 

years ! 
Among those ever-shifting scenes of time 
Our souls will languish for a life sublime, — 
Midst rays divine of uncreated light 
To bask forever in a calm delight. 
While here, where Nature moves by those 

fixed laws 
For her created by the First Great Cause, 
We humbly bow before that Lord of all. 
Who guides by law, yet notes a sparrow's 

fall; 



92 A LIFE'S ILLUSIONS. 

Though veiled from sight, God's providence 
we own, 

Working through wond'rous laws to us un- 
known. 



I would not tread life's rugged path again. 
With all its joys, illusions, cares, and pain ; 
But rather onward, through eternal time. 
Press toward a life more blessed, more sub- 
lime, — 
Forever reaching forward toward that goal 
Of God, the centre of each living soul ; 
And by that crystal stream forever stray. 
While purest love illumes an endless clay 
Where, in a tranquil bliss without alloy. 
Beauty is wedded to eternal joy. 




CONTROVERSIAL. 

NO LIMIT TO INVESTIGATION. 



A DREAM OF ENDLESS LIFE. 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING DEITY AND 

A FUTURE STATE. 

93 




INVESTIGATION. 95 

INVESTIGATION. 
N the North American Review some 
years ago appeared an article entitled 
"The Limits of Legitimate Religious 
Discussion," by a distinguished gen- 
tleman who contended that the fundamental 
principles of his faith should not be discussed ; 
that those who did not accept these principles 
were not moral men. In reply, I wrote "No 
Limit to Investigation," which is embraced in 
this collection, because there are yet good peo- 
ple who object to having their principles Inves- 
tigated. I do not question the soundness of 
any faith, but contend that all should be open 
to criticism. Our principles may be true, but 
If we shrink from having them Investigated It 
manifests a doubt of their truth. That doubt 
exists, though It generally is unknown to our- 
selves. We welcome the warm grasp of our 
hand by a friend whom we esteem, but if our 
hand has a felon It shrinks from the touch. 
If we have thorough faith that our principles 
are sound we will welcome Investio^ation. To 
exercise the reason which God has given for 
our guidance through life Is the duty of every 
rational person ; the closest scrutiny cannot 
Injure truth. It Is thought by some that to 



96 NO LIMIT TO INVESTIGATION. 

control men it is best to keep them in igno- 
rance and to repress thought, but terrible will 
be the result when, like a raging torrent, that 
ignorant humanity bursts its bonds, sweeping 
everything before it in its wild fury. 

The Review article includes only those as 
moral men who believe in the so-called Ortho- 
dox tenets of faith ; it, therefore, consigns to 
the immoral class the Jews and many eminent 
Christians. I am not an Israelite, but my ex- 
perience teaches that the Jews and the excluded 
Christians are as moral as those of any other 
faith. All classes of men have their peculiar 
faults. The faults of the Jewish people, as a 
people, are the fruits of many centuries of bit- 
ter persecution. 

Any satire which my lines contain is not in- 
tended for the good, sincere, pious gentleman 
whose article they review, but for the senti- 
ments contained in that article. 




NO LIMIT TO INVESTIGATION. 

HY creed as true ! Oh, man, must 
I \ we decide 

'^ And by its iron rules of faith 
abide ? 



NO LIMIT TO INVESTIGATION. 97 

From thee on earth may knowledge only shine, 
'Midst the world's millions is all wisdom thine. 
Oh ! vain of thee to think to limit mind, 
Or through unyielding creed to bless mankind. 
Our souls, oh, God, were never chained by 

Thee, 
Breathing the breath of life Thou saidst, '' Be 

free." 
Oh, why will man his fellowman enslave, 
Deprive him of the mind his Maker gave ! 
With freedom thought through boundless space 

shall soar, 
All Nature's hidden treasures may explore. 
Bend, thirsting man, upon life's river's brink. 
Pure knowledge from its crystal waters drink. 
Thus cleanse all superstition from thy soul, 
God, who made thee, thought only may control. 
It was ordained by infinite decree. 
Blind faith from error never should be free. 

No danger to thy creed if it be pure. 
Through endless time its precepts shall endure. 
God's laws are ever safe from every wave ; 
He guards ; presume not thou His ark to save.* 

* Uzzah put forth his hand to the ark of God, and took hold of it : 
for the oxen shook it. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against 
Uzzah, and God smote him there for his error; and there he died by 
the ark of God. — II. Samuel vi., 6 and 7. 
Gi 



98 NO LIMIT TO INVESTIGATION. 

None may the limit of our minds unfold, 
Dictate the tenets which our spirits hold. 
Oh, Isabella ! great in act and thought, 
What woes on Spain thy pious frenzy brought. 
Though through Columbus westward thou 

might'st soar 
For freedom find a home unknown before. 
Yet not thy piety may aid mankind 
When thou with fetters wouldst enslave his 

mind. 
Vain thought ! The soul shall ever soaring be. 
Not Xerxes* with his chains more mad than 

thee. 
He mieht as well have chained that ocean's 

flow 
As thou couldst limit what mankind might 

know. 
Truth onward moves, though rugged be the 

way ; 
The tide of human thought thou canst not stay. 

Truth from Investigation will not fly. 
Of God eternal, cannot therefore die. 
Unreasoning faith is superstition's rod, 
Its pathway leads to error, not to God. 

* Xerxes ordered the Hellespont Sea to l)e chastised by three 
hundred lashes and fetters to be thrown into it because it carried away 
his bridge of boats. 



A DREAM OF ENDLESS LIFE, 99 

The false will tarnish, but gold is secure, 
Though tried by fire its brightness will endure. 
If true, thy faith through crucible will flow, 
And purer, from the test, will brighter glow. 
Thy cause afraid to cleanse from every stain 
Then not pure gold, but dross will there re- 
main. 
Thy creed from sifting wouldst thou hide away 
Then bid the unbelieving critic stay. 
Thy faith afraid to test, within thy heart, 
Thou unto thine own creed, a doubter art. 
The false shall vanish neath oblivion's sand. 
But truth undying shall eternal stand. 




A DREAM OF ENDLESS LIFE. 

ARTH is the infant school of human 

E^ life. 

In which, through many trials, we 
are taught 
Our first lesson, the alphabet of man's 
Existence. Learning which, we pass away. 
Promoted then unto a higher school, 
Always there learning through eternal years. 

We enter life without our leave or ken. 
Not knowing whence we came or whither go. 



lOO A DREAM OF ENDLESS LIFE. 

Protected by a loving Father's care, 
Who surely still will always safely guide, 
When this life's lesson shall be fully learned, 
And we may know the mystery of life. 

This Is the law of that Intelllorence 
Who reigns throughout the boundless uni- 
verse, 
Extending love and mercy unto man. 
No place that love and mercy enters not, 
Although such place minute could not contain 
A single puny grain of mustard seed. 
This sure is true, else were love and mercy 
Limited — finite and not Infinite. 

But punishment for erring rtian will come, 
Justice demands Its due, payment in full, 
But will not exact an over-payment. 
For over-payment would not be justice ; 
Would be at war with all God's attributes; 
At war with mercy, justice, love, and truth. 

Sin, an offense against the Infinite, 

"Merits," 'tis said, "an endless punishment." 

Can finite man do ought that's Infinite? 

Infinity belongs to Deity; 

It is not given unto erring man. 

Why sufifer then an endless punishment? 



A DREAM OF ENDLESS LIFE. lOI 

Some one will say, with faith like adamant, 
"All this, thy vision, may be heterodox." 
Dear critic, it is but a dream of bliss, 
A sweet poetic dream of endless joy, 
When we may clearer view the wise designs 
Of the great Architect, who ever guides 
Our destinies, amidst revolving worlds. 

A dream of that yet happy coming time. 
When love shall reig-n and sin shall be no 

more; 
All purified shall tread the golden streets, 
Eat from the tree of life and freely drink 
Deep draughts, from that pure living crystal 

stream 
Which ever flows through God's paradise. 

Though we may never all God's worlds be- 
hold, 
Yet many mysteries we may unfold ; 
And while eternal ages pass along. 
We shall forever sino- that sweetest sone, 
Nearer, oh! our God, "Nearer to Thee," 
Though we can never reach infinity. 



102 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY AND A 
FUTURE STATE. 

:=^HERE are no subjects which should 
T )^ possess a deeper interest to man- 
rO i3) kind than those of the deity and 
^^^^(^"^^^ the immortahty of man. Sages of 
all nations, tribes of men of every age, have 
sought to rend the veil which veils the Invisible. 
Like the poet Blair, we all desire that some 
courteous ghost would reveal the secret. But 
then, as we are told in the parable, we would 
not believe the message — 

" Tell us, ye dead ! will none of you in pity 
To those you left behind disclose the secret ? 
Oh that some courteous ghost would blab it 

out 
What 'tis you are and we must shortly be." 

The human race, savage and civilized — ex- 
cept a few would-be wise philosophers — believe 
in the existence of a Creator and yearn to en- 
joy a future life of bliss. The evidences of the 
existence of an Infinite Intelligence who rules 
throughout the boundless universe Is more 
than ample. That of the immortality of man, 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. IO3 

while not so strong, is sufficient to satisfy every 
reasonable person. 

It is not requisite that the evidence of man's 
future existence should resemble a mathemat- 
ical demonstration — a two-and-two-make-four 
proposition. Few subjects are capable of such 
proof. It is sufficient, on which to rest with 
confidence, if it be equal to the evidence which 
guides the important affairs of life. Many 
men are convicted by juries and lose their 
lives on less evidence. 

The theories of philosophers may be interest- 
ing, but like knotty points in law, they do not 
always adjust themselves to the passing events 
of life. Years ago a young man, a lawyer, quit 
for a time his profession to engage in business 
with his father, a wholesale merchant, doing a 
large business. The father thought that having 
his son with him would enable him to conduct 
his business on all points according to legal 
requirements, but he soon discovered that he 
had altogether too much law. Like one in the 
coils of a boa constrictor, through legal regula- 
tions the firm was threatened with strangula- 
tion. The son changed the whole business to 
place it on a legal basis. ''Some things," he 
said, '' were not done in a legal manner," and 



I04 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

Others "were not conducted according to the 
spirit of the law." That young man returned 
to his profession, and afterward achieved dis- 
tinction. Many philosophers like him may excel 
at discussing knotty points, but their ideas will 
not answer in the affairs of every-day life. 

The argument of design, " that where there 
is a design there must have been a designer," 
seems to me to be conclusive as to the existence 
of an Intelligent Creator. It would require 
faith much greater than ''a grain of mustard 
seed" to believe that the universe was created 
and guided by chance than to believe in an In- 
finite Creator. 

In illustrating his argument of design, Paley, 
in his '' Natural Theology," compares the works 
of a watch to the much more complicated anat- 
omy of the human body. It is objected to in 
his argument of design in Nature that we have 
no knowledge of its beginning ; that it may 
have been always self-existent. Would those 
wise gentlemen conclude that watches were 
self-existent because they never saw a watch 
made, and had no knowledge of the designer 
or when the first watch was made ? It is as- 
tonishing how wise men will indulge in quib- 
bling. 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 105 

Human wisdom or human folly, whichever 
you chose to call it, has called in question the 
existence of matter and mind. The good 
Bishop George Berkeley, who prophetically 
eulogized the western world — 

" Westward the tide of empire takes its way . . . 
Time's noblest offspring is its last" — 

in his work, '' The Principles of Human Knowl- 
edge," maintains that the commonly received 
idea of the existence of matter is false. Of 
this theory Lord Byron wrote : 

'' When Berkeley proved there was no matter 
He proved it was no matter what he said." 

Rene Descartes, the great French philoso- 
pher, who flourished nearly a century before 
Berkeley — 1596 to 1650 — in order to settle the 
question of matter and of mind, set aside all 
previous knowledge even that of his own exist- 
ence. "I think," said he, "therefore I exist," 
reasoning from this axiom he proved the world 
of matter and of mind, which the wisdom of the 
philosophers had called in question. May we 
not equally accept it as an axiom that "where 

G 2 



I06 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

there is a design there must have been a 
designer?" 

Some learned quibblers maintain that God's 
power may be Hmited. That there is no evi- 
dence that he could have created a single 
world more than he has created. These gentle- 
men, if they required any article made, would 
go with the utmost confidence to have it made 
by a manufacturer who still manufactured such 
articles. 

Marie Corelli, in her "Thelma," introduces 
a terrible thought. It is that of one of her 
characters. She neither affirms nor exposes its 
fallacy. " The works of man," she writes, " live 
after him. May not God have created the 
world and then died?" The comparison Is 
plausible, but will not stand Investigation. 
The works of man which survive him are in 
harmony with and rest on the laws of nature, 
which are the works of the Creator. If God, 
the source of all things, were to die, all things 
would with him perish. 

The Jews, ancient Persians, and Brahmas of 
the Old World believed in one supreme God. 
The Greeks and Romans had a multitude of 
gods and goddesses. Greece had so many 
deities that she enacted a law making the pen- 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. lO/ 

alty death for introducing a new god. To do 
so was considered impiety to the gods she pos- 
sessed. One of the charges for which Socrates 
was tried and condemned to drink the cup of 
poison was impiety. Hundreds of years after 
at Athens, when the Apostle Paul preached 
Christ as God, he was taken to the highest 
court at Mars Hill — the place where Socrates 
was found guilty — to give an account of his 
teachings. In his address the great Apostle 
shrewdly said, " as I passed by ... I found an 
altar ... ' To The Unknown God.' . . . Him de- 
clare I unto you." 

Zoroaster, the inventor of the wheel and the 
first fireworshiper of whom there is any record, 
taught : " the most ancient of all things is God, 
for He is uncreated." He also taught the exist- 
ence of one Supreme Being and for man a 
future state. "Fire and light," he said, "were 
not objects of worship, but pure and lively 
emblems of the one eternal God. That man 
required such visible emblems in worship." 

The Peruvians were fireworshipers. The 
last of the Incas said to the cruel Spaniards 
who sought to convert him and who afterward 
crowned him with the crown of martyrdom, 
*' My faith I will not change. Your God was 



I08 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

put to death by the very men whom He created, 
but my God still lives in the heavens and looks 
down upon His children." 

Christians generally believe in a Triune God ; 
Mohammedans in the oneness of the deity, and 
that Mohammed was His prophet. The Bible 
is the inspired book of the Christians ; the 
Koran — the most read book in the world — of 
the Mohammedans. 

The Suff Creed is the most beautiful of all 
the many Mohammedan Creeds. It was the 
Creed of the great classic poets of Persia who 
flourished some 800 years ago. The Suffs 
teach that God was the One Beautiful, alone in 
all eternity, who sang of love. As beauty 
always desires to be made manifest. He created 
all things. He is the center of all love. When 
we think we love any one, it is not that person 
we love, it is God. 

Why we fail to comprehend the Creator is 
our limited capacities. The finite cannot com- 
prehend the Infinite. There is nothing which 
God wishes to conceal. If there was a mystery 
it never could be discovered by man. " Who 
by searching can find out God ?" We are 
privileged to investigate and speculate, and 
through them much has been achieved. 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. IO9 

" Eternal Lio^ht ! Eternal Liorht ! 

How pure the soul must be 

When, placed within Thy searching sight, 

It shrinks not, but with pure delight 

Can live and look on Thee . . . 
" Oh, how shall I, whose native sphere 

Is dark, whose mind is dim. 

Before the Ineffable appear 

And on my naked spirit bear 

That uncreated beam ?" 

Plato, who flourished 2300 years ago, in his 
Phaedo discusses the immortality of the soul. 
This work has alw^ays been celebrated. Marcus 
Cato, when defeated in battle, April 6, 46 b. c, 
rather than submit to the conqueror — though 
Caesar would have gladly forgiven him — killed 
himself. He spent the last night of his life 
readinof Phaedo. He was so celebrated for his 
veracity that it became a saying in Rome when 
a doubtful story was told, " I should not believe 
such a story were it told me by Cato." 

Addison, in his " Tragedy of Cato," draws a 
dramatic word-picture of Cato's dying soliloquy, 
which would have been worthy of the genius 
of Shakespeare : 



no THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

" It must be so ! Plato, thou reasonest well, 
Else whence this pleasing- hope, this fond de- 
sire, 
This longing after immortality . . . 
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us, 
'Tis heaven itself that points out an Hereafter 
And intimates eternity to man. . . . 
I'm weary of conjectures [draws dagger] this 

must end them. 
Thus am I doubly armed ; My death and life, 
My bane and antedote are both before me. 
This [the dagger] in a moment brings me 

to an end, 
But this [Phaedo] informs me I shall never 

die. 
The soul secure in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age and nature sink in years, 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth. 
Unhurt amidst the wars of elements, 
The wreck of matter and the crash of 
worlds." 

This life is the infant school * where we learn 
the alphabet of our existence. When we enter 

* In one of the poems I introduced some thoughts, which in this 
essay are more fully treated. 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. I I I 

another sphere we graduate to a higher school, 
there to be forever students eno-aofed in the 
study of the marvellous works of the Creator. 
So vast and varied are these works that through- 
out all eternity we can never hope to graduate 
from that higher school. 

There are many who believe that in the next 
life they will behold the Great Invisible and 
fully understand all the working of his provi- 
dence. In this they may be mistaken. There 
are in fractions sums called repeaters, to which 
the student could never reach an exact answer, 
even were he to live and work at one of these 
sums forever. Yet each figure added to the 
quotient would be a fraction nearer to the an- 
swer. I sometimes think that it will be so with 
our knowledge of God. We will forever be 
increasing in that knowledge ; always drawing 
nearer and nearer to him, but never see and 
gain a full knowledge of the great Invisible. 

Edward Young in " The Infidel Reclaimed — 
Night Thoughts — " gives man's discontent in 
this life, his yearning for a future and better 
life, and his continued pursuit of knowledge as 
evidences of his immortality. He says that 
nature never creates a desire that there is not 
the means of satisfying. The beasts of the 



1 



112 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

field are happy and perfecdy content when 
abundantly supplied with what they desire, 
but man never. 

" Proud man who rules the globe and reads 
the stars, 

Philosopher or hero sighs in vain, . . . 

And discontent is immortality. . , . 

Man's heart the Almighty to the future 
sets, . . . 

Fame is the shades of immortality. . . . 

Is it that things terrestrial can't content? 

Deep in rich pasture will thy flocks com- 
plain ? 

Not so ; but to their master is denied 

To share in their sweet serenes. . . . 

Brutes soon their little zenith reach, their 
litde all 

Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 

Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. 

Were man to live coeval with the sun. 

The patriarchal pupil would be learning 
still 

Yet dying, leave his lessons half unlearn'd . . . 
Or own the soul immortal or invert 

All order. Go, mock majesty ! go man 

And bow to thy Superior of the Stall." 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. II3 

Man is a vain, ambitious creature. He de- 
sires to possess and control all things. He 
forms his gods and goddesses after his own 
image ; measures all things by his own stature ; 
weighs all worlds by the globe upon which he 
lives, and singing the good old hymn, *' Higher 
than Angels, Lo ! We Stand," he aspires in the 
next life to be the highest created being. 
Could this wish be gratified he would then 
wish to be one with Deity and, ultimately, to 
be superior to God. Such is man. The con- 
querors of the world wade in blood in order 
to rule their fellowmen and to be called great. 

Laws are God's messengers to man and to 
all worlds. They are universal. Through un- 
known laws God works a special providence 
in the lives of men and the affairs of nations. 
If we may be permitted to reason by analogy 
from this life to that which is to come, we would 
conclude that law, which is universal in this 
world, exists also in the spirit world. 

Experience teaches breach of law brings 
punishment. Justice demands its due ; pay- 
ment in full, but not overpayment. That 
would not be justice ; would not be in con- 
formity with God's attributes, all of which are 
in perfect harmony. We are lost as in a maze 

Hi 



114 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

when we contemplate their sublime unity. Like 
unto one not attuned to the beauties of art, 
poetry, or music, we cannot comprehend their 
sublimity. 

As justice cannot exact an overpayment, this 
thouofht occurs : Can finite man commit an in- 
finite offence ; do ought that is infinite, merit- 
ing an endless infinite punishment? Is there 
in God's universe a place where love and mercy 
never enters ? If so, love and mercy are limited, 
therefore, finite and not infinite. What would 
we think of one who condemned a worm to 
endless torment because it did not crawl as he 
desired it to crawl ? Is God's love and mercy 
less than the love and mercy of good men and 
good women ? To think so would be absurd. 
There are reputed wise men who would banish 
the great Infinite Intelligence from his works. 
Others picture him as a being in the image of 
man, endowed with human passions. 

Like everything earthly, creeds will change, 
many of them pass away. Great was Diana 
of the Epheslans. Her Temple at Ephesus 
was one of the seven wonders of the world 
and a "City of Refuge." She had many 
temples and multitudes of worshipers. The 
great rulers of the earth did her reverence 



THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DIETY. II5 

and presented large offerings of gold and 
golden images to enrich and beautify her shrine. 
Appeles and other great painters of Greece 
decorated her temple. She lived in the thoughts 
of her countless worshipers. Where now is 
Diana? Not a single temple or worshiper re- 
mains, "None so poor to do" her "reverence." 
Perhaps I am treating on subjects that belong 
to the theologians. Well I will leave these 
knotty points to them. They will debate each 
point, but never agree on any one of them. As 
Omar Khayyam, a classic Persian poet, has 
written — 

" Myself when young did eagerly frequent, 
Doctor and Saint and heard great arguments 
About it and about: but evermore 
Came out by the same door wherein I went, 
. . . Many a knot unravelled . . . 
But not the master knot of human fate — 
There was the door to which I found no key; 

There was the veil through which I could not 
see. 

May you and I, dear readers, tread the rug- 
ged path of life endeavoring to observe the 
laws of One who careth for us, who punishes 



Il6 THOUGHTS CONCERNING THE DEITY. 

for our betterment and not for our destruction. 
Let us always remember that it is written " God 
is love." Temples and creeds will perish, suns 
and satellites may pass away, but " His mercy 
endureth forever." 

As far as we can trace, the faith of mankind 
in a great Intelligent Creator has always ex- 
isted. Countless generations of man have 
lived and passed away, yet that faith remains. 
*'A constant drop of water will wear away a 
stone," but more enduring than the rock is 
man's faith in God and in his own Immortality. 



THERE ARE MOMENTS. 
Oh, there are moments when the soul. 
Free, bursting from the world's control, 
Soaring its heavenward flight on high, 
In such a moment would I die. 




RODERICK, 



A TALE. 



A TILLER OF THE SOIL. 



THOUGHTS ON THOUGHT 



THE LAWS OF NATURE. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



DIVERSITY OF THOUGHT. 



117 




RODERICK. 
And coming always in the moon's full light, 
That gallant horse and rider drop each night. — Page 124. 




RODERICK. I 19 

RODERICK. 
I. 

BC^RAVE Rod'rick was the hero of a 
/) wild— 

11 I No tribute paid, no man as master 
^^ styled, 

Nor favor sought, nor mercy from a lord ; 
His wild dominion held he by his sword. 
The gallant leader of an outlawed band, 
The rude defender of his native land, 
By mountain-pass and steep cliff's rugged way 
The tyrant's minions kept he still at bay. 

But Rod' rick once had home, had wife and child, 
A peaceful man, was loving, gentle, mild, 
A neighbor kind, a friend without a peer. 
Most happy passed his days from year to year. 
Till foemen came ; a fierce, a foreign band 
By ruthless war subdued his native land, 
His home destroyed, destroyed his child, his wife, 
Naught leaving but his courage and his life. 

Deep buried in his inmost soul his woes. 
With dauntless breast he met his country's foes, 
And vengeance dealt on many a battle-day, 
In many a struggle fierce and bloody fray. 



I20 RODERICK. 

His comrades true obeyed his every call — 
A hero band, his will the law of all ; 
The rustic patriot loved to sound his fame, 
The tyrant trembled when he heard his name. 

His faithful comrades, one by one they fell. 
By rocky pass, by mountain-stream and dell ; 
Yet unsubdued remain a valiant few, 
Whose dauntless deeds attest what man may do. 
Though history's page records not now their 

name 
In living letters of undying fame, 
Not Greece's heroes in her brightest days 
More worthy were of never-ending praise. 

*' Here perish we," said Rod'rick, "one by one, 
And none may live to see our freedom won ; 
A daring deed for liberty and right. 
Our country save or fall in manly fight." 
Thus spoke the chieftain to that remnant band, 
The last defenders of their native land. 
" Let traitors leave us and let cowards fly ; 
We go," he cried, '' to conquer or to die." 

II. 

The monarch grand, within his castle wall. 
Held festival in his great banquet-hall, 



RODERICK. 121 

And proudly smiled upon that bright array 
Of chieftains brave and ladies fair and gay ; 
His sceptre holding with an iron hand, 
He sternly stretched it o'er a conquered land, 
All fearless now of chief in wilds afar 
Who unsubdued maintained guerilla-war. 

The festive hall, what signal now alarms ? 
"The rebel foe !" they cry ; " to arms ! to arms !" 
With terror hear resounding Rod'rick's name. 
The walls are gained, the castle is on flame. 
And now, amidst confusion and dismay, 
The chieftains arm and mingle in the fray, 
And the proud monarch trembling on his throne 
In his great banquet-hall is left alone. 

Brave Rod'rick ! This the hour to venoreance 

due, 
To right thy wrongs and save thy people too — 
That sacred hour thou long hast prayed to see. 
Thy country's chain to break, proclaim her free. 
What bravest yet may dare thou dar'st to do. 
And fighting by thy side are comrades true ; 
For unto thee their trust and lives are given : 
Thy country's only hope is thee and Heav'n. 

Oh, fruitless now is valor, vain the strife: 
These valiant rustics can but yield their life, 

H 2 



122 RODERICK. 

There fighting, not to conquer, but to die, 
And from their country's foes they will not fly; 
They bravely fall beneath the conqueror's 

blade. 
A captive now their gallant chief is made* 
No mercy unto him will foeman give. 
For what were conquest worth if Rod'rick live ? 

1 1 1. 

Life's closing day ! Brave chief, the die is cast : 
The trumpet's call proclaims this hour thy last. 
But who would live a captive and a slave ? 
Oh, better far the gibbet and the grave ! 
Thy gallant steed — the charger which thee bore 
In bloody fray throughout this vengeful war- 
Shall carry thee to where thy death shall show 
A tyrant's hatred toward a noble foe. 

The captive chief to see, the people throng 

As onward unto death he rides along. 

Low murmuring they, like waves upon the 

shore. 
Forerunners of the billows' angry roar. 
Upon the guards they dash, that living tide. 
Like rushing torrents down the mountain-side; 
With patriotic hate, with fury blind, 
They scatter them like chaff before the wind. 



RODERICK. 123 

Quake, guilty tyrant ! Though upon a throne, 
A nation's wrongs thy blood may yet atone. 
For Rod' rick speeds once more to open war; 
And if he only reach those wilds afar, 
That spirit brave may yet thy conqueror be — 
In coming time may hail his people free. 
Thy minions send in hot pursuit to fly ; 
That rebel chief will vanquish thee or die. 

Fast through the city gates the riders go. 
Pursuing, all, a solitary foe; 
And as the walls they pass their ranks divide. 
That warrior in to hem on either side. 
Oh, brave is Rod'rick,fleetand staunch his steed, 
But naught avails it in this hour of need ; 
He may not reach that solitary wild, 
His mountain-home, where cliffs on cliffs are 
piled. 

That swift pursuit began with midday sun. 
Nor was it ended when the day was done : 
Ere they arrived on Elward's giddy height 
The moon on its dark cliff shed forth her light. 
No bridle checked that rider brave, with speed 
Still pressing forward on his noble steed. 
While on the craggy hillside just below 
Half-circling him advance his warrior-foe. 



124 RODERICK. 

A gulf before thee, Rod'rick, dread and deep ; 
Behind, surrounding thee, thy foemen sweep : 
The hon strong is caged; they have thee there, 
And with wild shouts of triumph rend the air. 
But Rod'rick, ever calm, no look behind, 
Rides as unconscious of their fury blind, 
Raises his charger for the dreadful leap, 
And, bounding onward, passes o'er the steep. 

Though many years have passed by Elward's 

tide, 
The rustic yet will speak of Rod'rick's ride. 
And strangers tell how, at a furious speed. 
Again appears that chieftain on his steed ; 
And coming always in the moon's full light. 
That gallant horse and rider drop each night 
O'er Elward's cliff down to the depths below, 
There disappearing ; but how, none may know. 

They tell that Rod'rick never can know rest 
While by the foe his people are oppressed — 
How yet a coming chief with valiant band 
Will drive oppressors from their native land. 
And to the patriot dead will honor give : 
On history's brightest page their names will live. 
Then shall the nightly apparition cease. 
And then shall gallant Rod'rick rest in peace. 



A TILLER OF THE SOIL. 



125 



A TILLER OF THE SOIL. 

^FAITHFUL, fearless tiller of the 
A 1^ soil 

^ ^^ % With freedom, not averse for bread 
>^=^<^ to toil ; 

When duty calls unto his country's aid, 
No braver in the battle's ranks arrayed. 
Fearless, he lives erect, on Nature's plan, 
Whose noblest, highest title is — a man. 

Where yon rippling brooklet wends its way, 
What joy, with Evelina sweet, to stray. 
Now she is all his own, to never part, 
The chosen treasure of his faithful heart. 
They have their hours for pleasure, books and 

prayer 
To soothe the troubles of their daily care. 



If unlearned in musty scrolls of ages, 

He, true knowledge gains from Nature's pages; 

He knows the various buds, the flowers and 

trees. 
The lovely birds, the flocks and humming bees. 
While, from his cottage door, not given to 

roam, 
Can tell of seed-time and of harvest home. 



126 A TILLER OF THE SOIL. 

Though on his brow no laurel crown is laid, 
Few nobler, truer men, our God hath made. 
For far more blessed he, when trouble comes, 
Than the poor tenant of a city's slums, 
Who dwells in filthy dens, e'en from a child, 
Where poverty and vice run riot wild. 

W^here e'er thy lot, at city, sea or farm, 
If thou would'st lend to life its truest charm, 
Unto thyself and Nature's laws be true, 
Perform the service to thy race that's due. 
What though renown thy labor may not find. 
Thy life shall be a blessing to mankind. 

Who lives for public weal, on Nature's plan, 
In our esteem, should rank the noblest man. 
Rome's Cincinnatus ! Great indeed wast thou ! 
Twice yielding mighty rule to guide the plow, 
Through time, emblazoned on the page of fame, 
Shall shine no truer, purer, nobler name. 

In early days, one tall, gaunt man I knew, 

A rural worker and a ruler true ; 

Whose large firm hand, wielding a mighty pen, 

Gave freedom to a host of toiling men. 

On History's page, although great names 

appear, 
Immortal Lincoln ! few can rank thy peer. 



A TILLER OF THE SOIL, 12/ 

Should all men work the farm or delve the mine? 
No ! starry science, a vast field is thine — 
Thine statesman faithful to a Nation's trust, 
Thine honest tradesman, who gives measure 

just. 
Not all have wisdom given who guide the 

plough, 
But greater idiots they, who truckling bow. 

Depraved and feeble minds, the candid own, 
Are found alike in cottage and on throne. 
By Nero, flowed of the red stream a flood, 
A poorer villain sheds a family's blood, 
And Jeffreys,* on that seat where law should 

reign, 
With crimson tide, has left a lasting stain. 

While rulers err, who wield despotic rod, 
Oppression surely cometh not from God. 
By yielding up the rights their Maker gave. 
Men make their tyrants. Tyrants make the 

slave. 
While ruling with an iron rod is shame, 
Still those who make the despot are to blame. 

* In 1685 was held in England the " Bloody Assize," over which 
Judge Jeffreys presided. He promised prisoners accused of rebel- 
lion mercy if they would plead guilty, but violated his pledge and 
320 of them were executed. 



128 A TILLER OF THE SOIL. 

What then the rule ? Not title, pow'r, or place; 
The men who work are noblest of their race. 
If naught to aid mankind your days employ, 
But amidst revels lewd you seek your joy, 
Though untold wealth may guard you in its 

coil. 
You are a pauper on the public toil. 

In Nature's changeless code is this decree : 
The part to act in life, remains with thee. 
No human law can make a lordling great 
Nor bind a freeman to a low estate ; 
The wealthy, planted in too rich a soil. 
In growth are rank— midst many weeds they 
toil. 

Despots ! in your brief reign of passing time 
You can oppress immortal souls sublime ; 
Your cruel laws may curb, but cannot bind 
The Godlike freedom of the human mind. 
For the pure spirit shall eternal shine 
Brighter than diamonds from their secret mine. 




THOUGHTS ON THOUGHT. 



129 



W 



THOUGHTS ON THOUGHT. 

HO can define thought? It is every- 
where ; a power throughout all nature. 
By invention, the product of thought^ 
man spans the earth, passes over 
the waters with a swiftness in former times un- 
known. He also passes under the waters of the 
ocean, soars through the air, and harnesses the 
lightning to do his bidding. By thought he 
maps the starry firmament, traces for millions 
of miles worlds and comets in their endless 
flight, and tells the time when they will return. 
It is said of beauty that it *' always desires to 
be made manifest." This also is true of thought. 
*' A thing of beauty " may in a future life be " a 
joy forever," but in this life, like evil thoughts, 
it fades away. Great and true thoughts endure. 
The beauty of art passes ; thought, if true, will 
live forever. Where are the beautiful paint- 
ings of the great masters of Grecian art ? Not 
one now remains ! Yet we possess to-day the 
thoughts of her philosophers, authors, and ora- 
tors. They have bidden defiance unto time. 
Thought has no sex ; yet one thought will fre- 
quently give birth to a multitude. 

The thoughts of those long mouldering in 
the dust still live In the hearts of mankind 
1 1 



130 THOUGHTS ON THOUGHT. 

and mould dielr lives. Can we call Solomon, 
Buddha, Confucius, Mohammed, Shakespeare, 
and a host of other thinkers dead while their 
thoughts survive ? If we add the teachings 
of One whom all Christian nations adore, what 
a mighty influence their thoughts have on the 
lives of men. 

What we call instinct is thought in a lesser 
degree. It is possessed by bird and beast, by 
every living thing. It is manifest in those tiny 
creatures which we perceive only through the 
microscope when " they readily elude each 
other in the merry dances they keep up." 

Thought is the fastest traveler known. In a 
second it reaches the most distant worlds, to 
reach which it would require light thousands of 
years to travel. 

" How fleet is the glance of the mind compared 
with the speed of its flight ! 
The tempest itself lags behind and the swift- 
winged arrows of light." 

We should not ignore the thoughts of those 
more experienced than ourselves, but examine 
them by the mind given for our own use, ac- 
cepting those which appear true and rejecting 
all that we find are unsound. 



THE LAWS OF NATURE. 



131 





Nature. 



THE LAWS OF NATURE. 

HERE is much diversity of opinion 
I // as to what is the will of God, but 
''' all agree that the first revelation 
of His will is the Revelation of 
A celebrated theologian of the last 
century said that a subsequent Revelation 
may reveal many truths not revealed by the 
first Revelation, but It cannot contradict the 
first Revelation of Nature, for if it did it would 
not be from God. 

In all the visible creation the laws of Nature 
reign supreme. The countless worlds through- 
out the starry firmament are subject to law. 
Nature requires no miracle, no angelic host, 
to carry its laws to the most remote worlds. 
They require obedience and chastise for dis- 
obedience. Like the Creator Its laws are 
omnipresent and like Him remain the same, 
far more wonderful than the o^reatest miracle 
the human mind has ever conceived. 

The laws of Nature govern mankind from 
the minutest to the greatest events In their 
lives, yet, paradoxical as it may appear, they 
leave men to govern themselves. These laws 
regulate the earth and direct Its course through 



132 THE LAWS OF NATURE. 

Space, extend to all things animate and inani- 
mate, to grass and trees, shrubs and flowers, 
even to the lives of those tiny creatures, the 
inhabitants of a drop of water. 

The laws of Nature require obedience from 
men of every clime, the savage and the sage ; 
they speak with no uncertain voice, disobey 
and suffer. They are mingled with mercy. 
Have you broken a law ? Cease its breach 
and your chastisement may terminate or be 
mitigated, as in the case of the laws of health. 

Discoveries of Nature's laws benefit man- 
kind. When Kipler, the great astronomer, 
discovered his third law, wild with joy he ex- 
claimed, "the die is cast, the book is written to 
be read either now or by posterity, I care not 
which. I may well wait a century for a reader 
since God has waited six thousand years for a 
discoverer." 

The laws of Nature from their beginning 
appear to have existed, just as they now exist, 
unchanged. Men can work wonders, but they 
cannot alter one of them in the slightest 
degree. Worlds may perish, but God's laws 
will remain. 




IN THAT LIFE OF THINE. 1 33 

IN THAT LIFE OF THINE. 

TO MOLLY. 

HOU art gone to a land sublime, 
Yet on the firmament of time, 
Amidst the stars * which shine so 

bright. 

Never a purer, truer light 
Than Thine. 

Life began with the trumpets swell — 
As leaves of the Autumn, men fell. 
Not thine to fight. In bloody fray 
Braver spirit ne'er passed away 
Than Thine. 

Thy life was like a sunny ray. 
Flowers strewn on thy pathway lay ; 
But clouds concealed thy midday sun 
Before thy earthly course was run, 
In this life of Thine. 

For sickness came, where all was love, 
Thy suffring spirit passed above. 
With thy God in that life divine 
Midst loved ones forever to dwell. 
In that life of Thine. 

* "One star differeth from another star in glory." — I. Cor. 15 : 41. 




134 ONE OF OUR NUMBER. 

ONE OF OUR NUMBER. 

(On the Death of G. L. C, Nov. io, 1877.) 

C^NE of our number, in the summer 
II // time, 

^^ in In the morning of youth, in its 
■^^ blooming prime, 

When Nature was joyous and all was bright. 
And earthly scenes shone in glorious hght ; 
Death's sickness full sore laid one loved one low 
And one of our number was summoned to go. 

The summer was fair, the summer leaves green, 
For him twenty such on earth there had been. 
But he lingers to autumn, his spirit receives. 
Withering, withering, just like its leaves ; 
Bids unto each his last message to send. 
And speaks of His love and joys without end. 

A friend of his boyhood is coming amain, 
Life's ebbing fast, will he see him again ? 
In haste from a distance he reaches the door ; 
He weeps by his couch, for death came before. 
If friendship could bind to this earthly sphere. 
Or love might have chained, he still had been 
here. 

A message to loved ones over the sea, 
" Tell them I love as I know they love me. 



ONE OF OUR NUMBER. 1 35 

Oh ! mother, dear mother, you're losing your 

boy. 
And father," he cries, "meet me where there's 

joy; 

Sisters, dear sisters! my blessing and love." 
One of our number was numbered above. 

''\ would not thus die without helping my 

kind," 
And truly his works leave a blessing behind. 
He banded the youth in the temperance cause, 
Taught them to follow and honor its laws. 
If but his mission one mortal to raise, 
Not surely in vain were his few numbered days. 

One of our number In an endless day. 
By the river of life and golden way, 
Secure in the bliss of redeeminor love 
From death and decay in mansions above, 
Looks from the glorious fields of the bless'd. 
Inviting us home to the realms of rest. 

Who next of our number will be summoned to 

Beneath the green sod and willow laid low? 
May that one be ready and willing to bend, 
" Father, I come to the world without end, 



136 THE HARP OF ZION. 

Preserved by thy love I pass through the tomb 
To meet with our friends in regions of bloom. " 

When all of our number have passed away 
May we meet in the light of celestial day, 
Forever to live in the life divine, 
Our spirits and love, oh Father ! be thine. 
May the work we have done while here below 
Be a blessing to men while ages shall flow. 




THE HARP OF ZION. 

" We hanged our harps upon the willows." — Psalm cxxxvii. 

HY harp, oh Zion, hangs upon a wil- 
low tree 
All mute, nor yieldeth now notes of 
sublimity ; 
Silent in death the tongues tuned by thy holy 

fire, 
Mould' ring in dust the hands which woke thy 
sacred lyre. 

Earth-born lays are sweet, but thy melody 

sublime ; 
Sweeter have been thy notes, grander than 

those of time ; 
Homer may soar in his aerial flight, 
Isaiah's wild numbers yield a purer delight. 



THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 1 37 

Oh ! that a bard was found to pluck thee from 
that tree, 

To wake again thy strains rich with sublimity. 

His was a lofty theme all human lays above, 

The song of heavenly grace and God's redeem- 
ing love. 




THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 
H, traveler ! bleeding by the wayside 

Where bandit thieves have left thee 
but to die ; 
All pass thee by '* upon the other side," 
None pause to give thee succor and to guide. 
But, lo ! one cometh with Samarian stain. 
One who will bind thy wounds, relieve thy 

pain — 
One of a hated race is friend to thee 
When thine own people aid thee not, but flee. 

Oh, traveler ! wounded in the world's fierce 

strife, 
With none to succor, weary of thy life ; 
Thy friends and kindred all from thee have 

flown. 

Thus leaving thee to perish all alone. 
I2 



138 THE UNMERCIFUL SERVANT. 

There cometh One, but not of tainted blood, 
To raise, to cleanse thee in the holy flood ; 
To bind thy wounds, and faith in Him is given 
To lift thy soul from earthly scenes to heav'n. 



THE UNMERCIFUL SERVANT. 

is^^EFORE his lord he came and mercy 
D ^ sought, 

^ ^^ ^ But to his fellows mercy would not 
\^=^e^ show ; 

Although his debts were freely all forgiven, 
From others he exacted his full dues 
Unto the uttermost. 

Oh ever thus with man ! We heav'n approach, 
Pleading its Lord to cancel our great debt, 
But from our suffering and our needy 
Fellowmen we exact our utmost claim 
Hard and unfeelingly. 




THE MOUNTAIN-MAID. 

(Written by Request.) 

FANCY not the rich and gay, 
Nor yet the giddy throng : 

The one I love is far away. 
The mountain-side along. 



THE MOUNTAIN-MAID. 1 39 

Her form is unadorned by art: 

Fair Nature's child is she ; 
She is the dearest to my heart, 

And still to death shall be. 

Oft her bright eye on me would beam 

With an enchanting power 
While wandering by the bubbling stream 

To pluck the opening flower, 

Or by the mountain's grassy side 

At evening's close I strayed. 
Or roamed the valley far and wide 

With my sweet mountain-maid. 

And oft since then, when pensive gloom 

Her veil o'er me would cast, 
I think upon that mountain-bloom — 

The days with her I passed. 




140 DIVERSITY OF THOUGHT. 

DIVERSITY OF THOUGHT A MEANS OF EDU- 
CATION. 

C^DUCATION is not confined to the 

M // teachings of the schools. The child 

in learns some important lessons when 

^^ it learns to discriminate, to walk, and 
to talk. In youth our world is the valley where 
we dwell. If we live on a mountain, our world is 
larger, as we have a larger view. We are told 
or read of other places which we would like to 
visit, but none is so dear to us as our home. 
The faith and principles of our parents are our 
faith and principles ; truths which do not ad- 
mit of a doubt. We think that others should 
perceive them in the same light. 

When we leave the parental nest, the paren- 
tal instructions, to mingle with strangers in the 
struggle of life, we find a larger world and a 
greater variety of opinions than we had pre- 
viously supposed. Those entertaining these 
opinions we find are just as sincere as our 
parents. Though holding fast to our own 
views, after discussion with our new friends 
and neighbors, we admit to ourselves that their 
theories might contain some grains of truth. 
This difference of thought is a means of edu- 
cation. 



DIVERSITY OF Til OUGHT. I41 

None think alike on all subjects. Each 
brain, like each eye, sees things in a different 
light. A reason that to our mind is clear and 
conclusive, to another is obscure and of no 
value — like as a glass magnifies to one eye, 
while to another eye it renders objects but 
dimly. How minds differ may be illustrated 
by our jury system. Twelve men are impan- 
elled to try a prisoner charged with murder. 
All are sworn and wish to reach a just verdict. 
They hear the same evidence, the same argu- 
ments of counsel, and the same charge of the 
judge, yet they cannot agree on a verdict. 
Some vote for murder In the first or in the 
second degree, others for manslaughter, and 
yet others for acquittal. Each mind sees guilt 
or innocence from its own point of view. This 
difference of opinion produces critical thought. 
Discussion is a means of education. In a vil- 
lage debating society, the Senate chamber, or 
the highest courts of law of the nation ques- 
tions are made clearer by discussion. The 
Constitution of the United States, the best for 
the government of man the world has ever 
known, was formed through lengthy discus- 
sions by men of different and even antagonis- 
tic ideas. Thought glancing on thought pro- 



142 DIVERSITY OF THOUGHT. 

duced this great document. Although not 
perfect — no human document can be — through 
all the changes of time, the contests of state, 
corporate and individual interests, it has stood 
the test of many generations and now governs 
some eighty-five or ninety million people. 

In building the Temple of Liberty the fathers 
used that rotten plank — human slavery. It has 
passed away in blood, but not until the Ameri- 
can people have been taught important lessons 
in the school of liberty. One lesson is that a 
cfreat wrone had been committed against a 
people brought unwillingly from their native 
land ; bought and sold like cattle for centuries. 
The minority has been taught that in a gov- 
ernment of the people there can be no appeal 
"from the ballot box to the bullet box." 

Many pious people believe that it would be 
a blessing if all mankind thought and wor- 
shipped alike — one universal church. Zealots 
would demand that In all respects that church 
should be like theirs. For uniformity the 
more liberal would concede that in m.inor 
points it might differ, but in essentials its 
tenets should be the same as theirs. 

A universal faith is but a dream of pious 
souls ; but if some controlling mind were to 



DIVERSITY OF THOUGHT. 1 43 

breathe Into it the breath of life, the minority 
would suffer such persecution as minorities 
have suffered in past ages. But if there were 
not one doubter, progress would cease, the tide 
of civilization would roll backward. Thoug^ht 
acting on thought resembles the waves of 
the ocean, the motion of which purifies Its 
mighty waters. Sameness of thought Is like a 
stagnant pool which sends forth disease and 
death. 

" Who that would ask a heart to dulness wed 
The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead." 

If one word of mine could produce uniform- 
ity of thought, even if that thought agreed 
with my own, I would not utter it. Individuals 
or nations whose thoughts remain the same 
never progress. Spain, which was at one 
time one of the greatest nations, If not the 
greatest, by suppression of freedom of thought 
checked her progress. She Is now of minor 
importance. Scotland to-day Is famed for her 
sons being deep logical thinkers. This repu- 
tation they have acquired from the develop- 
ment of their mind by the discussion of knotty 
points of theology. Scotchmen have not al- 



144 DIVERSITY OF THOUGHT. 

ways had that reputation. Centuries ago, when 
Spain was in her glory, they were considered 
of small account. Dr. Samuel Johnson once 
remarked, " that much could be done with a 
Scotchman if he was caught young." 

There are few better means of developing 
the mind than the ballot, notwithstandlnor its 
imperfections. Being the possessor of a vote 
makes the voter a person of some importance. 
Parties and candidates reason with him as to 
how he should vote. He may like the platform 
of one party and the candidates of the other ; 
he must choose between them. 

No reasonable person should be denied the 
ballot. Is it just to put any one's life, liberty, 
or property In danger by laws in which they 
had no voice, even through representative, in 
enactine? Are voters io-norant ? Educate them. 
Are they weak ? Let those who are stronger 
defend them. The rlp^ht to vote should be 
guarded by reasonable regulations, as you 
guard the rights of a minor before entering 
into possession of his property. 

This, you say, would give women a right to 
vote, a right which, as a rule, they have not 
hitherto enjoyed. Why continue to deprive 
them of that right? Is there to be no prog- 



A SEALED DIARY. 1 45 

ress? Must governments continue to be by 
brute force? "Must crimes and tyrants cease 
but with the world ? " It is said that many 
women would not vote. Do all men vote who 
are entitled by law to do so? If a thousand 
whose privilege and duty it is to exercise the 
right of franchise neglect that duty, why should 
one who wishes to do so be deprived of that 
right ? What would we think of a judge who 
rejected a just claim because other just claims 
had not been enforced by law. Suffrage would 
make women conservative and less change- 
able by its new responsibility. Persons out of 
power are more radical than those in power. 

When you deprive any one of their vote be- 
cause they are poor, weak, or ignorant, you 
take from them their *' one little ewe lamb." 
A second Nathan may say unto you what the 
prophet Nathan said unto David, *'Thou art 
the man." 



A SEALED DIARY. 




H, no ! I dare not break that seal. 
For it would other days reveal. 
It would recall the hour that's fled, 
And the memory of the dead, 



Ji 



146 WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 

With all their hopes, the doubts and fears, 
The vanished bliss of other years. 

Oh, no ! I cannot break that seal, 
Nor, e'er the days that's past reveal, 
With all their fancied golden streams. 
With all their vanished youthful dreams 
This cloud would deepen on my brow, 
And it would nigh unman me now. 

Oh, no ! I will not break that seal 
Nor secrets of the past reveal. 
Still let them be like heartfelt woe, 
Which no mortal ear may know. 
They are but there and in this breast, 
The world shall never know the rest. 



WHEN WE WERE YOUNG. 

Oh, the days of sunny gladness, 
Days of merry, merry madness. 

The blissful days when we were young. 
There was singing, but no sighing. 
Only dreams of love undying ; 
Then it was we scorned all sorrow. 
Dreaming of a glad to-morrow, 

Those joyous days when we were young. 



POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

Written Between the Years 1845 and 1850. 

147 



POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 1 49 

THE REFUGEE'S SONG. 

(Written about 1848 — A Year of European Revolution.) 

^^O and tell our oppressors that, 
|L 1^ free as the wind, 

^\ ^ We have severed their chains, left 
V==^%e=^ their fetters behind. 

Though we are in exile, from our homes far 

away, 
Yet as freemen we live — not as minions obey. 
Whether roaming the desert or ploughing the 

sea. 
Our hands are unshackled and our spirits are 

free. 

The bright sun, when descending, still flies to- 
ward the west, 

Past the land that we love and its dark moun- 
tain breast. 

But no more will he view us as once there con- 
fined. 

We have severed our chains and are free as 
the wind. 

Whether roaming the desert or ploughing the 
sea, 

Our hands are unshackled and our spirits are 
free. 



I50 POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

Go and tell the proud tyrant to rivet his chain ; 

But no more in its links will a freeman re- 
main. 

Though exile awaits them to a far distant shore, 

They will cast oft the chains which for ages 
they bore. 

Whether roaming the desert or ploughing the 
sea, 

Their hands are unshackled and their spirits 
are free. 

Until tyrants are gathered and laid in their 

grave, 
To the battle will muster the free and the 

brave ; 
And though they may perish or be exiled away, 
As freemen will suffer, not as minions obey. 
Whether roaming the desert or ploughing the 

sea, 
To the combat will hasten the valiant and free. 

Go and tell our oppressors their chains we defy, 
For as freemen we live and as freemen will 

die. 
Either living or dying our spirits no more 
W^ill be crushed by the fetters which bound us 

of yore. 



POEMS OF BOYHOOD, 151 

Whether roaming the desert or ploughing the 

sea, 
Our hands are unshackled and our spirits are 

free. 





X SI 



ADDRESS TO FANCY. 

H, fancy, lead me back again, 
Unto each field, each wood and 

glen — 
Where with my comrades oft Fve 
played. 
Or in my boyhood hours have strayed. 

There do thou bring again to me 
All those that once I loved to see ; 
Let them come and join the play, 
As they were wont in former day. 

Most now on foreign lands may roam, 
Far from their country and their home ; 
A few their native valleys tread, 
And some there slumber with the dead. 

Some, too, of that once happy band, 
Now tread on India's burning sand; 
Some lie beneath the rolling deep, 
In death's long silent, peaceful sleep. 



152 POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

But thou must seek them in the grave, 
And bring them from the ocean wave ; 
Yes ! there go find them in the deep, 
And wake them from their silent sleep. 

Call them from each distant clime. 
Where they have borne the marks of time. 
Unto their own, their native clod, 
To lovely Erin's verdant sod. 

Let no fair stranger fill their room. 

Nor bring them forth in manhood's bloom ; 

But let them come in fairy dream, 

As in their boyhood they would seem. 

Let every breast its pangs forego. 
Nor send one thought of grief or woe, 
Let nothing come for to alloy 
That dream of bliss and fleeting joy. 

For thus alone we'll ever meet 
Or around our playgrounds ever greet; 
Our youthful days have passed away, 
And now on foreign lands we stray. 



POEMS OF BOYHOOD, 1 53 

CLAVERHOUSE. 

^^RAHAM, of Claverhouse, is said to 
|L mT have possessed the beauty of a lovely 
^ ^ woman, but a cruel heart of steel. 
^^^^^^*^^ These lines v^ere written after read- 
ing an account of his cold-blooded murder by 
his own hand of John Brown, a Scotchman, 
after his troopers refused to execute him. 
Brown's offence was non-conformity to the es- 
tablished religion. He died praying for his 
murderers. 

Upon British annals there rests a name, 
A foul, a dark, and an eternal stain, 
An endless monument of British shame, 

'Tis Claverhouse. 

Was ever monster since the world began ? 
Was ever devil in the shape of man ? 
Yes ! and if such a one you'd like to scan, 

'Twas Claverhouse. 

Was ever porter of satanic gate ? 
Was ever mortal filled with devil's hate 
'Gainst everything that's noble, good, and 

great ? 

'Twas Claverhouse. 

I2 




154 POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. 

AUSEWAY, thou wonder of the 
earth, 
The scene of happy days ; 
Talk of many a cheerful hearth 
And tale of minstrel's lays. 

I have stood on the vessel 

To view thy wonders o'er, 
While joyous memory brought back 

The happy days of yore. 

It told of many happy hours, 

Of scenes of beauty rare. 
Which would tax the muses' powers 

To tell of scenes so fair. 

Unrivaled thy dark cliffs still stand. 

Such beauties never seen ; 
In any age or any land 

Have no such wonders been. 

Though far from thee my lot is cast. 

Yet by memories sway, 
I live again the days that's past, 

By thee again I stray. 




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POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 1 55 

THE LOVERS. 

!OW autumn's withering fleeting 
jvl \ breeze 

11 ff. J3 murmuring hoarsely through the 
trees, 

Where the young lovers sleep, 
And summer's oft departing bloom, 
Now drooping sadly o'er their tomb. 

For the young dreamers weep. 

Once that free spirit — now above — 
Had told his first, his ardent love, 

To her there by his side ; 
And heard from her harmonious voice, 
Whose accents did his soul rejoice, 

That she would be his bride. 

But fickle was that fair one's vow. 

And soon t'ward him was chang'd that brow. 

Viewed once with pure delight; 
It is but once, the fair one cried, 
But once I change and leave thy side. 

But once a heart I blii^ht. 

His hopes, his joys, his all had passed, 
And as a flower before the blast 

He drooped, and pined, and died. 



156 POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

They laid him in the silent tomb, 
Where Nature decked his bed with bloom, 
And o'er his ashes sighed. 

She heard his fate, she sought his grave, 
And there a silent tear she gave 

To him who then was dead ; 
But once she sighed, and wept, and prayed, 
Before her youthful spirit strayed, 

And from her body fled. 

Now autumn's withering, fleeting breeze 
Is murmuring hoarsely through the trees. 

Where the young lovers sleep ; 
And summer's oft departing bloom. 
Now drooping sadly o'er their tomb — 

For the young dreamers weep. 



THE ROSE MAY FADE. 

Is our loved one dead? is this only clay? 
Has her "spirit fled? has she gone for aye? 

The rose may fade, but coming spring 

Its blossoms will renew ; 
God the appointed spring will bring, 

When wakes our loved one too. 




POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 1 5/ 

A SONG. 
SIFT have I sung the plaintive lay 
For those I loved in former day ; 
And I have sung the merry song 
Unto the gay and giddy throng : 
But now I'll raise my harp once more, 
And sing of bliss in days of yore. 

Inspire my song, thou plaintive lay, 
While thus I sing of former day ; 
Oh ! may the scenes that now are o'er 
In vision cross my mind once more ; 
And while I view thy winning smile, 
Oh ! show to me my native isle. 

Long are the hours that now are fled 
Since first my heart has mourned the dead ; 
But ah ! since then the song of glee 
Has been a song unknown to me ; 
Oh ! blest the hours, thou tuneful lyre. 
When first that song my breast did fire. 

Free joy cannot be bound by woe. 
Nor misery cover all below — 
Yes, joy has still her hours of glee, 
Tho' past they fly unknown to me ; 
But I will raise my harp once more 
And sing of bliss in days of yore. 



158 POEMS OF BOYHOOD. 

For I had once a happy home 
And free the woodland glen did roam ; 
I joined my comrades as they played, 
And oft in bowers of joy I strayed : 
Oh ! those were houx's of merry glee, 
But, ah ! these hours have fled from me. 

For then I roamed a wayward boy, 
While Nature filled my soul with joy, 
Oh, these were hours that onward go — 
That see no grief, that feel no woe, 
That hear no song but the song of glee, 
But, ah ! these hours have fled from me. 

No ! joy cannot be bound by woe, 
Nor misery cover all below. 
For yet those vales with notes will ring, 
Which other joyous lips will sing ; 
But, ah ! those songs of merry glee 
Have long been songs unknown to me. 



A VALENTINE. 
If planets flee the sun, round which they roll — 
I may forget Thee, Center of my soul ; 
When vital air refuses me genial breath, 
Or when I lay me down and sleep in death, 
Or when forever stemmed the falling snow, 
Will cease my heart with love for Thee to glow. 



SELECTIONS FROM 

STUDIES IN THE LITERATURE 

OF THE 

NATIONS, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 

By the Author. 
159 




ANCIENT FAITHS OF INDIA. l6l 

ANCIENT FAITHS OF INDIA. 

:ROM remote time Brahmanism was 
p \ the faith of India, a time so remote 
^^ that it is impossible to even approxi- 
mate the period of its birth. Its 
teachings were impHcitly beheved in by its 
people. It had its sacred records and traditions. 
Its deities had churned the ocean, mingled with 
men, and given some of them power to perform 
many wonderful acts. Up to the sixth century 
B. c. it had encountered no worthy opponent, 
but from the latter part of that century it had 
for much longer than a thousand years to con- 
tend with the teachings of a new faith — that of 

THE BUDDHA. 

Siddhartha Gautama, called by his disciples 
"The Lord Buddha," is one of the most re- 
markable characters in history. For twenty-five 
hundred years or more the lives of a vast num- 
ber of the human race have been molded by 
his teachings. 

There has been some controversy about the 
period when this celebrated man flourished, 
whose teachings have been called *'The Light 
of Asia." Sir Edwin Arnold, who resided 

K I 



1 62 ANCIENT FAITHS OF INDIA. 

many years In India, and who has made himself 
conversant with the faiths, customs, history, and 
the ancient and modern languages of its people, 
places the date of Buddha's birth at about 620 
B. c. and his death at about 543 b. c. He was 
born at Kuisnaijara, in Oudha. His father 
who was a raja or chief of a tribe, dearly loved 
his son, surrounding him with all that wealth 
and power could bestow, and in every way 
sought to promote his happiness. Thus enjoy- 
ing the good things of life he passed his early 
years until after his marriage, and a son was 
born unto him. It w^as at this period, when the 
cup of his earthly bliss was overflowing, that 
his troubles began. Then first came under his 
observation the misery in the lives of others. 
He took their sufferings much to heart and 
could no longer enjoy the good things with 
which he was surrounded. After a severe 
mental struggle he gave up all he loved — his 
wife, his child, his parents — and with one fol- 
lower went out into the world as a mendicant, 
seeking the new birth, that through it he might 
find redemption for his suffering fellow-beings. 
This new birth, after many years of study and 
many privations, he found. Afterward he vis- 
ited his relatives and the home of his youth. 



ANCIENT FAITHS OF INDIA. 1 63 

His father, surrounded by a gorgeous array, 
went forth to welcome him, but the son entered 
the city at the other end as a mendicant, seek- 
ing alms. 

Buddha was quite as much a philosopher as 
a religious teacher. He seems to have formed 
no theories concerning the deity, teaching his 
disciples the law of cause and effect. Incon- 
sistent with this teaching are the miracles 
attributed to him. It may be said in regard to 
this inconsistency that few men are logical, and 
that even the good and the wise are rarely 
consistent with their own teachinors. There is 
another solution, however, of this matter, and 
probably the correct one, that Buddha did not 
pretend to work miracles, but that they were 
afterward attributed to him by his followers to 
enhance the greatness of their leader. 

After the death of this reformer of Brah- 
manism, disputes arose between his followers 
on points of doctrine, and it is said that some 
of them who desired to become leaders rejoiced 
at his decease. To settle disputed points and 
to collect his sayings a council of five hundred 
of his disciples was held in a cave near Raja- 
griha. "They chanted the lessons of their 
master in three divisions — the words of Buddha 



164 ANCIENT FAITHS OF INDIA. 

to his disciples, his code of the discipHne, and 
his system of doctrine." These became the col- 
lections of his teachings. A second council, of 
some seven hundred members, assembled a 
century later at Vaisali ; this council, which was 
intended to promote harmony, led to quite a 
different result, permanently dividing the Budd- 
hists into two hostile parties and later into 
many sects. These two divisions have ever 
since remained apart and at variance. One of 
them is known as the Northern, the other as 
the Southern, Buddhists. This division did not, 
however, retard the progress of their faith, but 
rather, by arousing their rivalry, helped to 
spread it to other lands. In addition to this, 
their records being kept apart, differing some- 
what, but agreeing on the main points, has 
given additional proof of the genuineness of 
the Buddhist records. 

About the year 244 b. c. King Asoka, of 
Magadha, or ancient Behar, from being a per- 
secutor of Buddhism, became a convert to that 
faith, and accomplished for it what the Emperor 
Constantine effected for Christianity. He con- 
voked a third council of one thousand elders, 
organized Buddhism as a state religion, made 
an authorized collection of its sacred books, 



ANCIENT FAITHS OF INDIA. 1 65 

and sent missionaries to spread its teachings. 
His edicts of the faith " are still found graven 
deep upon pillars in caves and on the rocks " 
of India. He directed his missionaries '' that 
they should mingle with all unbelievers for the 
spread of religion ; mix equally with Brahmans 
and beggars, with the dreaded and the despised, 
both within the kingdom and in foreign coun- 
tries, teaching better things." They were to 
convert by persuasion and not by the sword. 
" Buddhism," states the Encyclopcedia Britan- 
nica, "was at once the most intensely mission- 
ary religion in the world and the most tolerant. 
The character of a proselyting faith which wins 
its victories by peaceful means, so strongly Im- 
pressed upon it by Asoka, has remained a 
prominent feature of Buddhism to the present 
day." 

About the middle of the first century of our 
era the fourth and last great council was con- 
vened by King Kanishka, a renowned Saka 
conqueror. It represented the Northern faith, 
as the third council of Asoka had represented 
the Southern. The fruits of its labor were 
three commentaries, written in the Sanskrit 
language, which were afterward the foundation 
of the Northern canon, or greater vehicle of 



1 66 THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

the law. The decrees of the Asoka council 
form the lesser canon. 

Buddhism for some eleven or twelve hundred 
years successfully contended in India against 
the older faith, but about the eighth century of 
our era, either by decay or banishment, perhaps 
by both, it began to disappear from its native 
land, and has now but few followers in the 
country which gave it birth. Its seed trans- 
planted, however, to other soil, yielded an 
abundant crop. In this it resembles Chris- 
tianity, which, banished from Palestine, the 
cradle of its infancy, has taken deep root in 
other lands and has there produced a rich 
harvest. 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

==^REECE in primitive times — or Hellas, 
|L 1^ as her people loved to call her — was 
^ ^ o^e of the brightest luminaries in 
^^^^^^^^^''^^ the firmament where shone the an- 
cient nations. Her brave sons, whose physical 
culture and celebrated youthful appearance 
were promoted by their manly sports, defended 
her freedom aeainst the vast hordes of her 
Persian invaders, winning victory and immortal 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 1 6/ 

renown at Marathon, Thermopylae, Salamis, 
and Plataea. Nor was the triumph of her sons 
confined to gallant deeds of arms. Her archi- 
tecture was the wonder not only of the ancient 
but also of the modern world, while for music 
and philosophy, literature and art, all civilized 
people for more than twenty-five centuries have 
awarded her the highest meed of praise. 

Her literary achievements, reaching back to 
primitive times far beyond the memory of man, 
in thought and style were purely her own. 
Her poets, like those of other ancient nations, 
were her first authors. The causes which pro- 
duced the poet before the writer of prose are 
evident. The lines of the bard in early times 
were often committed to memory, because the 
labors of the scribes were tedious. His poems 
were either sung or recited by himself or his 
followers, and song has in all ages touched the 
hearts of men. The epic was the first poem 
of Grecian verse, it was followed by lyric 
poetry, and afterward by iambic verse, but up 
to the time of Homer and his immediate fol- 
lowers the epic prevailed. 

As the language of a nation Is Intimately 
connected with Its literature, it may not be out 
of place to briefly refer to that of Greece, 



1 68 THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

which belongs to ''a family of tongues," called 
the Indo-Germanic or Arion. It has been 
divided by linguists into three divisions and 
various sub-divisions. The three divisions are 
the ^olic, the Doric, and Ionic. The last was 
"a soft and vocal lanorua^re, delig^htinof in vocal 
sounds," from which was born the Attic, the 
most perfect of the Greek tongues. The old- 
est of these dialects was the ^olic, about the 
proper sub-divisions of which there have been 
many learned disputes. In the mountains of 
Thessaly the Doric had its birth, and, like its 
native heio^hts, deliohted in " broad and rou^h 
sounds." Through the conquests of Alexander 
the Great the Greek language lost its purity by 
the intermingling with it of foreign words and 
idioms, and thus arose a form of speech called 
the Hellenistic, in which tongue the books of 
the New Testament were written. 

HOMER. 

Of the life of Homer little is known. Yet 
many, very many volumes have been written 
by authors on this subject ; but when the result 
of their labors is summed up, it amounts only 
to learned speculation. It may entertain and 
perhaps be useful to the antiquarian specialist 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 1 69 

of literature, but the student who desires to 
acquire a general knowledge of the world of 
letters cannot spare the time required for Its 
study. There are some points, however, relat- 
ing to this author and his poems which are 
worthy of careful consideration. Much praise 
has been given Homer for his creative flights 
of imagination, and this praise, giving to the 
word creative a limited meaning, Is properly 
awarded. No author, however, either ancient 
or modern, can be said to be original in the 
broad sense of that term. The thoughts of 
one author produce the thoughts of another, 
just as the seed sown hy the husbandman pro- 
duces new seed. In one respect, however, the 
comparison differs. The seed In the ground 
dies while giving life to the plant which yields 
the new seed, but not so with thought. While 
It produces new thoughts, the original thought 
probably never dies, although It may pass away 
from the memory of man. Thus an author 
composes a great work in his own style, which 
bears his own personal imprint, containing the 
thoughts of his own brain, and yet uncon- 
sciously to himself this great work has sprung 
from the thouo^hts of those he associates with 

In his every-day life, and from his readings of 

K2 



I/O THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE, 

Other writers. To this rule Homer was no ex- 
ception. Authors, it is true, in his day were 
few, and he may never have read or heard re- 
peated even a single line of any of their works, 
but those around him could repeat, and no 
doubt often did, some old-time legends of their 
gods and heroes, and to them these gods and 
heroes were living realities, and not, as they 
are considered by us, merely myths. The age 
of Homer was an acre of faith. At a later 
period, before the close of the old era, came an 
age of skepticism, in which faith in their many 
deities reached a low ebb ; when men, after 
speaking of or swearing by their gods, would 
add, "if there be gods," but in the time of 
Homer there was no skepticism, and he be- 
lieved in the legends from which he compiled 
his narratives. To him the gods were beings 
who guided human affairs. 

The reader of Homer's poems should always 
bear in mind when perusing them that the 
people of his time did not consider his narra- 
tives as mere flights of the poet's imagination, 
but as true records of real events. Their gods 
were imbued with human passions and took an 
active interest in the affairs of men. In addi- 
tion to living in their heavenly abode, they 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. I /I 

were continually around men, in sea and plain, 
forest and mountain. 

The stories concerning the Siege of Troy 
were no doubt handed down from father to son 
for some three hundred years, until the days 
when Homer compiled those which chiefly re- 
lated to the exploits of Achilles, in his great 
poem "The Iliad." More than two hundred 
years elapsed from the time of Homer, if we 
accept 900 B. c. as the period when he flour- 
ished, before his fame reached its zenith. Be- 
tween 600 and 700 B. c. his poems were pub- 
licly recited, and care was taken to preserve 
them in their purity. 

In describing Homer's style, Matthew Arnold 
thus writes : " He is eminently rapid, he is emi- 
nently plain and direct, both in the evolution 
of his thought and in the expression of it, that 
is, both in his syntax and his words ; he is emi- 
nently plain and direct in the substance of his 
thought, that is, in the manner and ideas ; and, 
finally, he is eminently noble." 

Of the Homeric poems many are lost, but 
the two most important — ''The Iliad" and ''The 
Odyssey" — yet remain. The first of these is 
by far the greater poem. These two poems 
are rendered into our language by different 



172 THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

translators. Pope's rendering, on account of 
the use of poetic license required by its rhyme, 
differs more from the original text than the 
renderings of the other translators, who wrote 
in blank verse. One of the finest descriptive 
passages of '' The Iliad " is " The Shield of 
Achilles," which important piece of ancient 
armor was forged by the god Vulcan for that 
hero, at the solicitation of Thetis, Achilles' god- 
dess mother. The parting interview in the 
same poem between the brave but ill-fated 
Hector and his loving wife, Andromache, is a 
touching, tender passage. Another fine pas- 
sage, from Pope's translation, is where the 
death of Patroclus is announced to Achilles, 
that hero having permitted his friend to enter 
the battle in his stead against his enemy. Hector, 
who slays Patroclus. In a few lines it expresses 
grief, friendship, the spirit of revenge, and 
deep humiliation : 

" Patroclus, loved of all my martial train. 
Beyond mankind, beyond myself, is slain. 
'Tis not in fate the alternate now to give ; 
Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live. 
Let me revenge it on proud Hector's heart. 
Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart — ■ 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 1 73 

On these conditions will I breathe — till then 
I blush to walk among the race of men." 

XENOPHANES. 

Xenophanes, the founder of the Eleatic school 
of philosophy, was born at Colophon, in Asia 
Minor, and flourished about 580 b. c. He passed 
the most of his ninety-two years in banishment. 

Teachings. 

There Is one God greatest among gods and 
men, neither in shape nor in thought like unto 
mortals. Without an effort ruleth he all thinors 
by thought. He abideth ever in the same place 
motionless. Men imaofine p^ods to be born and 
having senses like themselves — even as Homer 
and Hesiod attributed to the gods all that is a 
shame and a reproach among men. Even lions, 
horses, and oxen, if they had hands wherewith 
to engrave images, would fashion gods after 
their own shape and make them bodies like 
their own. The gods did not reveal all things 
unto man at the beginning. Long is the search 
ere man findeth that which Is better. 

SOCRATES. 

Socrates, whose father was a sculptor and 
whose mother was a midwife, was born 468 b. c. 



1/4 THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

In 399 B. c. he was condemned to death, and 
died by drinking the cup of hemlock poison. 
Writers differ in their views as to whether this 
truly great man should be classified as a phil- 
osopher, an educator, or a reformer. To us he 
seems to have been all of these combined. In 
the records of the nations there appear many 
great men, but none, in all respects, like him ; 
he stands a unique figure in history. 

Until about middle life Socrates followed the 
profession of his father. A group of draped 
graces, said to be executed by him, was pre- 
served in the Acropolis until the time of Pau- 
sanias, who flourished about the second century 
of our era. His family, although not wealthy, 
was in comfortable circumstances. He pos- 
sessed a rugged constitution, but was far from 
being a handsome man. As a philosopher he 
held that we should require nothing but abso- 
lute necessities, and in carrying out this theory 
he went barefooted in the most inclement 
weather, and wore the same clothes winter and 
summer, even when in military service. But 
he was no sloven. He reproved his pupil 
Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynics, for 
wearing ragged garments, saying, " I can see 
your pride through the holes of your cloak." 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 1 75 

History records his great patience with his wife, 
Xanthippe, who was a woman of violent temper. 
But much may be said in defence of that ancient 
dame, for if Socrates introduced the same 
economy into his family affairs which he prac- 
tised himself, which seems probable, few women, 
even the most patient, would endure it. Our 
modern dames would not tolerate it. 

In battle he was brave ; but it was in the 
public Assembly, at the trial of the generals on 
the charge of permitting some of their men to 
perish without rendering them assistance, that 
he rose to the highest pinnacle of true heroism. 
A resolution had been introduced which swept 
away all the legal rights of the defendants. It 
was the province of Socrates and other mem- 
bers of his tribe to put this resolution to the 
vote of the Assembly. Some of them objected 
to doing so, but all of them, under threats, 
yielded except this grand old man, who re- 
mained firm in his refusal even at the risk of 
his life. Notwithstanding his refusal, however, 
the resolution was submitted to the Assembly, 
adopted by it, and six of the generals, who had 
just achieved a great victory for the people^ 
suffered death. The Athenians were after- 
ward much ashamed of their course in this 



176 THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

illegal and unjustly conducted trial. On another 
occasion, when the Oligarchy of Thirty ordered 
Socrates and four others to bring them one of 
their victims, he alone of the five refused to 
obey the command. 

To Socrates is awarded the credit of first de- 
claring '' that the proper study of mankind is 
man." He also declared against speculative 
philosophy, and even objected to the minute 
study of the elements, pronouncing such spec- 
ulation and study sacrilegious. In this we call 
his wisdom in question, notwithstanding the 
Delphian god declared through the Pythian 
priestess that no other man was wiser than 
Socrates. That the study of mankind is an 
important one may not be questioned by any 
intelligent person, but it should not be the only 
study. 

Since the days of this ancient philoso- 
pher the discoveries made by scientists have 
been highly beneficial to our race, and even 
speculative philosophy, notwithstanding its many 
absurd theories in matters then thought not to 
affect the interests of mankind, is to be credited 
with wonderful achievements. There is no sac- 
rilege in the closest investigation of anything 
with which the mind of man can grapple. It is 



THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE, lyj 

absurd to suppose that man can ever discover 
what God would conceal. 

The subjects of his teachings are thus de- 
scribed by Xenophon, who was one of his fol- 
lowers : '' Socrates continued incessantly dis- 
cussing human affairs," writes that historian ; 
** investigating : What is piety ? What is im- 
piety ? What is the honorable and the base ? 
What is the just and the unjust? What is 
temperance or unsound mind ? What is cour- 
age or cowardice ? What is a city ? What is 
the character fit for a citizen ? What is authority 
over men ? What is the character befittinof the 
exercise of such authority? and other similar 
questions. Men who knew these matters he 
accounted good and honorable ; men who were 
ignorant of them he assimilated to slaves." 

*'The extreme publicity of life and conversa- 
tion," writes Grote, '' was among the character- 
istics of Socrates, distinguishing him from all 
teachers, either before or after him. Early in 
the morning he frequented the public walks, 
the gymnasia for bodily training, and the schools 
where youths were receiving instruction ; he 
was to be seen in the market-place at the hour 
when it was most crowded, among the booths 
and tables where goods were exposed for sale ; 

Li 



1/8 THE LITERATURE OF ANCIENT GREECE. 

his whole day was usually spent in this public 
manner. He talked with any one, young or 
old, rich or poor, who sought to address him, 
and in the hearinof of all who chose to stand 
by; he never either asked or received any re- 
ward, he made no distinction of persons, never 
withheld his conversation from any one, and 
talked upon the same general topics to all. No 
other person in Athens, or in any other Grecian 
city, appears ever to have manifested himself 
in this perpetual and indiscriminate manner as 
a public talker for instruction. All teachers 
either took money for their lessons, or at least 
gave them apart from the multitude in a private 
house or garden, to special pupils with admis- 
sions and rejections at their own pleasure." 

Socrates survived the rule of the bloodthirsty, 
plundering Oligarchy of Thirty only at the age 
of seventy to be condemned and suffer death 
under the democracy. He had been forbidden 
to instruct the youth by the previous govern- 
ment of the Thirty, but continued to do so. 
This offence, which they called corrupting the 
youth, and the false charge of impiety were the 
principal counts against him in the indictment. 
We will not discuss his trial, his speech before 
his judges, his conversations with his friends, 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 1 79 

and the closing days of his Hfe, for the student 
will find all these incidents described by Plato 
in his beautiful classical style. 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 

AUTHORS AND ORATORS WHO FLOURISHED DURING 
THE REVOLUTION. 



W 



E have now reached a period when 
celebrated literary lights who are to 
act a part in the great dramatic trag- 
edy of the French Revolution enter 
on the stage of human existence. This Revo- 
lution is an epoch in the world's history of 
political upheavals, of bloodshed, and of cruelty. 
But such periods are by no means rare in the 
history of the nations. Although there have 
been many epochs when men acted quite as 
inhuman, there is none which resembles the 
French Revolution, for each period, whether its 
fruits are good or evil, has its own characteris- 
tics. During centuries the people of France 
had endured the sway of despotic government, 
religious intolerance, and bitter persecution ; 
many thousands of them had been cruelly 
slaughtered and many thousands more had 
sought freedom and safety in other lands. Un- 



l8o FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 

fortunately for France, many of these self- 
exiles belonged to the artisan class, who carried 
with them a knowledo^e of manufacture which 
enriched other nations. France could far better 
have spared her despotic rulers and proud aris- 
tocracy than she could these humble mechanical 
toilers. Durinor the reio^ns of Louis XIV. and 
XV. order was preserved, for they maintained 
a strong government. But the rod of repres- 
sion cannot always keep in subjection the 
oppressed, for a strong government is sure to 
be followed by a weak one. Then the pent-up 
human volcano bursting forth carries destruc- 
tion before it. Thus it was in France : after 
Louis XIV. and Louis XV. came the amiable 
but weak Louis XVI., under whose mild rule 
burst the volcanic revolution, bearing that kindly 
sovereign, his Queen, and thousands upon thou- 
sands of his worthiest and most refined subjects 
to a common doom. 

Many of the leaders in the first revolt, like 
Lafayette, were patriots whose design was to 
form a model government, giving a higher and 
happier destiny to their fellow-citizens. Unfor- 
tunately, however, for the people of the nation, 
and particularly for those of Paris, they had 
been so trodden under as to make them unfit 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. l8l 

for the blessings of liberty. Reckless dema- 
gogues with wild theories took possession of 
the reins of government, and under their rule 
the Reign of Terror began and the guillotine 
drank the blood of the noblest of the land. 
During this awful period in the senate chamber 
it was declared "there is no God" ; over the 
tombs was inscribed '' death is an eternal sleep," 
and a woman of unsavory reputation was borne 
through the streets of Paris to represent the 
goddess of liberty. The jails were filled to 
overflowing, from which many victims went 
daily to their death, frequently without even 
the form of trial, their offense being that they 
were more refined than the ignorant herd who 
clamored for their blood. During this epoch 
two remarkable men appear on the pages of 
French history — one at its dawn, who tried to 
guide the nation in safety ; the other was a 
fierce firebrand, whose efforts were directed to 
the overthrow of all established institutions and 
the destruction of the noblest of the land. 
These men were De Mirabeau and Robespierre. 

De Mirabeau. 

In the year 1749 was born Honore Gabriel 
Rignetti, Count De Mirabeau, one of the great- 



1 82 FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 

est critics and statesmen who ever aided in 
steering the ship of state. He was also dis- 
tinguished as an author. In his *'Lettres de 
Cachet " he ably traces the history of French 
jurisprudence. Like his talented father, the 
Marquis De Mirabeau, who was also an author, 
he entered the army as Lieutenant, and was 
promoted to the rank of Captain. He dis- 
graced his earlier manhood by leading the life 
of a profligate. He suffered Imprisonment 
several times, and to avoid the death penalty 
fled from France, residing for some years in 
Holland and England. Having made his peace 
with the orovernment of Louis XVI. he returned 
home, and became a member of the States- 
General, which assembled at Versailles in May, 
1789. From this period he began a new career, 
proving himself to be both a statesman and 
patriot, checking the assumptions of the mon- 
arch and the wild theories of the revolutionists. 
His desire was to give to his country a consti- 
tution, with improvements, somewhat similar to 
that of England. He soon gained popular 
esteem, and success promised to crown his 
efforts, but in the height of his popularity the 
wild dissipations of his life brought him to a 
premature end. He died in the prime of his 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 1 83 

manhood, on April 2, 1791, sincerely mourned 
by the people of France. Whether he could 
have stayed that fearful period of excesses 
which followed his death is doubtful, for revo- 
lutions are seldom, if ever, checked. " If," 
writes Carlyle, " Mirabeau had lived one other 
year, but Mirabeau could not live another year, 
any more than he could live another thousand 
years. ... The most important of men cannot 
stay ; did the world's history depend on an 
hour, that hour is not to be given. . . . Mira- 
beau's work then is done. He sleeps with the 
primeval giants." 

Maximilian Maria Isidore Robespierre. 

Robespierre, the most celebrated and one of 
the most eloquent of the brutal leaders of the 
Revolution, was born May 6, 1758, at Arras. 
Having studied for the legal profession and 
having been admitted to the bar, he was in 
1782 appointed criminal judge at the place of 
his birth. But soon after his appointment he 
resigned the judgeship on account of the duties 
of the position requiring him to pronounce a 
death-sentence, which he declined doing. He 
became a member of the States-general in 1 789. 
His first political influence in the Assembly was 



184 FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 

achieved through his leadership of die cele- 
brated Jacobin Club. On the 30th of May, 
1 79 1 , he delivered, in his representative capacity, 
an address against capital punishment, denounc- 
ing it as ''base assassination." In June, 1794, 
when at the height of his bloody rule, he deliv- 
ered his oration on the existence of a God and 
the immortality of the soul. A month later he 
perished by the guillotine, to which he had con- 
demned so many others. 

De Mirabeau and Robespierre Compared. 

De Mirabeau and Robespierre are two of the 
most remarkable characters in the history of 
mankind. The first was a profligate, a doubter 
of human immortality, yet a statesman of rare 
genius, who labored with untiring energy to 
prevent the terrible calamities which were to 
descend upon his country, curbing the arro- 
gance of the monarch, at the same time frus- 
trating the wild schemes of the revolutionary 
party. A man of almost infinite resources, he 
performed immense labor. In his last hours, 
speaking to a friend, he said : " I am dying, my 
friend, dying as by slow fire. We shall per- 
haps not meet again. When I am gone they 
will know what the value of me was. The 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF FRANCE. 1 85 

miseries I have held back will burst forth from 
all sides on France." 

The character of Robespierre differed widely 
from that of Mirabeau. He was blameless in 
his private life, of acknowledged integrity. 
Controlling the resources of France, he re- 
mained too poor to marry Eleonore Duplay, 
the o^irl he loved, althouo-h he desired to do so. 
In his early manhood he was strongly opposed 
to capital punishment, and this sentiment con- 
tinued in his riper years. It is said that he 
fainted when he sio^ned the first death warrant. 
Afterward he sat day by day in a poorly fur- 
nished room, at a plain deal table, signing 
death warrants without even readinof them. 
We learn from the character of Robespierre 
that a man may be honest yet commit terrible 
offenses against the public welfare. Many of 
the greatest crimes which the world has ever 
known have been perpetrated by sincere men 
in the sacred names of liberty and religion. 
Many of these who burned men and women at 
the stake In the name of the Lord thought in 
doing so they were serving the Almighty, be- 
lieving that those whom they consigned to the 
flames were enemies of God, and by their false 
teachings were leading many to perdition. 
L2 



1 86 FROM THE LITERATURE OF PALESTINE. 

Therefore, they reasoned it was better to de- 
stroy these Individuals than lose the souls of 
many others forever. From their example v^e 
should learn to be careful never to say, thus 
salth the Lord when the Lord hath not spoken. 




FROM THE LITERATURE OF PALESTINE. 

THE HEBREW SCRIPTURES. 

HE Hebrew Scriptures form one of 
I \ the most wonderful books of the 
* '^ world. In beauty of biographical 
and historical narrative, in devotional 
psalms and wise proverbs, and in its laws and 
the fiery eloquence of its prophets, it has no 
peer among the writings of antiquity. It chroni- 
cles the progress of the people of Israel from 
the time of their orreat ancestor Abraham. It 
narrates in simple beautiful language how Jacob 
and his family entered the land of Egypt and 
at first filled places of honor, and how their 
numerous descendants were reduced to slavery, 
from which, under the guidance of their great 
law-giver Moses, they escaped. They were 
led by him for forty years through the wilder- 
ness. Afterward, under the leadership of Joshua, 
they entered the land cf Palestine and there 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF PALESTINE. 1 8/ 

became a great nation. This nation had many 
triumphs and also many vicissitudes. At one 
period of its history the people were carried 
captive to Babylon. They were liberated by 
Cyrus and restored to their own country when 
Babylon was captured by that monarch. There 
are thirty-nine books in the canon of the Old 
Testament according to the King James' ver- 
sion. The Jews limit the number to twenty- 
two, to correspond with the letters of their al- 
phabet. The original MSS. were written partly 
in the Hebrew and partly in the Chaldaic lan- 
guage. The Douay Version contains forty-six 
books. 

As this great work is in the homes of our 
people, and as its laws and precepts to a great 
degree mold their lives, it is unnecessary to 
enter into a detailed analysis of its merits. Its 
teachings we leave to the discussion of the 
theologians, confining our criticism to its merits 
as a work of historical information and literary 
culture. 

The Apocryphal Books of the Old Testament. 

These books, which belong to the period be- 
tween the close of the Hebrew Scriptures and 
the beginning of the new era, are not included 



1 88 FROM THE LITERATURE OF PALESTINE. 

in the Palestine collection. They form a part 
of the Alexandrian Greek canon known as the 
Septuagint. There has been much controversy 
concerning their inspiration. They were en- 
dorsed by the Council of Trent in 1546, and 
condemned by the Westminster Assembly which 
met in 1643. Some other religious bodies de- 
clare them useful, but not of equal authority 
with the other books of the Old Testament. 
Whatever may be their merits in a religious 
sense, they are of interest to the student of 
history, some of them containing valuable his- 
torical information. 

The Septuagint. 

The Greek translation of the books of the Old 
Testament, including the Apocryphal Books, is 
known as the Septuagint, meaning seventy. 
An ancient account, which is discredited by the 
critics, says that Ptolemy II., to produce this 
version, summoned seventy-two learned Jews, 
six from each tribe, to meet at Alexandria, who, 
in a brief time, gave to the world the Septua- 
gint. The early Christians at first received it 
favorably, but later, imperfections being found, 
the Hebrew text became the standard authority. 
The Septuagint is used by the Greek churches. 



FROM THE LITERATURE OF PALESTINE. 1 89 
The Books of the New Testament. 

The books of the New Testament are a part 
of the Hterature of Palestine. It does not come 
within our plan to discuss their sublime teach- 
ings. That field is filled by numerous commen- 
taries. As these Scriptures have a marked in- 
fluence on the literature of the civilized world, 
some remarks concerning them will come prop- 
erly within the scope of this work. Not one 
of the books of the New Testament was written 
until after the death of Christ. Some of them 
were not produced until a much later period. 
One of the latest was the Gospel of St. John. 
A considerable time elapsed before all the 
books came into the possession of the various 
branches of the Christian Church. Many of 
them were addressed to individual congrega- 
tions. In the first and second centuries many 
spurious gospels and epistles were in circula- 
tion. These had to be separated from the 
genuine books. For these and other reasons 
the completion of the Canon of the new Scrip- 
tures was a work of centuries. Possessing but 
few of these books, the Christians of the first 
and second centuries, in defending their faith, 
generally quoted from the books of the Old 
Testament. In this, however, they merely fol- 



190 FROM THE LITERATURE OF PALESTINE. 

lowed the example of their great Master and 
his disciples, who also quoted from Moses and 
the Prophets. 

In 220 A. D. the Gospels were first divided 
into short chapters or sections by Ammonius, 
of Alexandria. The first attempt at punctua- 
tion by a point or small blank space began in 
the fourth or the fifth century. The present 
division into chapters was introduced into the 
Latin Bible in the thirteenth century by Cardinal 
Hugo of St. Carus. The present division into 
verses was first introduced in 1551 by Robert 
Stephens, in an edition printed by him. The 
oldest MS. of the Greek Testament extant be- 
longs to the fourth century. 

The life of Jesus is beautifully narrated in 
the Gospels. His oratory while discoursing 
with his disciples is grand in its very simplicity. 
His comparisons are drawn from nature. His 
words reach the very height of sublimity when 
speaking of the folly of placing our affections 
on personal adornment. He said : " Consider 
the lilies of the field how they grow ; they toil 
not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto 
you, that even Solomon in all his glory was 
not arrayed like one of these." How touching 
is the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. I9I 

when, in agony, he poured out his soul in 
prayer. It is told of the elder Booth that when 
he repeated this prayer he brought tears to the 
eyes of his audience. 




FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

-^f^on^LY a few frap-ments remain of the 
I I no literature of the ancient inhabitants 
W of the American Continent — " ob- 
^^ livion hides the rest " — yet where we 
now dwell once "lived and loved another race 
of beings," a race noted for its simple yet sub- 
lime eloquence. The red man did not speak 
in the language of the schools, nor embellish 
his speech with quotations from the classics of 
Greece or Rome. He knew nothing of their 
immortal bards, heroes, and deities. He drew 
his comparisons from Nature. Everything 
around him had a lesson, which in his simple 
yet poetic language he imparted to his audience. 
Although the rude but touching oratory of the 
Indian is a thing of the past, there still remain 
some fragments of his literature which will re- 
pay careful consideration. 

The Caucasian, in his pride of race, boasts 
that to him America is indebted for all that is 



192 FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

good and great, but long before the advent of 
the white man the half-savage, half-civilized in- 
habitants of Mexico* possessed a rich litera- 
ture, advanced and preserved by the great poet, 
King Nezahualcoyotl, Lord of Tezcuco. This 
remarkable monarch, who was born about 1403, 
in Mexico, when only fifteen years of age, lost 
his father in battle with a neighboring tribe and 
was himself cast into a dungeon as a prisoner 
of war. Making his escape, after many adven- 
tures, he rallied his people, defeated his ene- 
mies, and forgave those who were unfaithful to 
him, remarking that "A monarch may punish, 
but revenge is unworthy of him." Amidst re- 
joicing he entered his capital, where he estab- 
lished a stable government divided into depart- 
ments, the most remarkable of which was that 
of music, devoted also to literature, and to 
which the monarch was a contributor. Many 
of his poems were translated into the Castilian 
language early in the sixteenth century ; among 
them are two beautiful ones, " Banish Care " 
and '' Indian Thanatopsis." The poem *' Banish 
Care " has a strikino- resemblance to the wTit- 

o 

ings of Solomon, yet the poet king of Tezcuco 
never saw the writings of the King of Israel. 

* Authority of William H. Prescott. 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 1 93 

In referring to the things of this Hfe and their 
glory, he styles them but an "illusory shadow," 
while Solomon, the ancient king of Jerusalem, 
who possessed and enjoyed their many pleas- 
ures, and who is celebrated from his own time 
to the present for his great wisdom, pronounces 
all these things as " vanity and vexation of 
spirit." The Lord of Tezcuco, however, rec- 
ommends us to enjoy these transient blessings 
of life while we possess them. His poem, 
which we name the "Indian Thanatopsis," has 
a remarkable resemblance to William Cullen 
Bryant's "Thanatopsis," which shows that tw^o 
minds may run in the same line of thought. 
The American poet when he wrote his great 
poem had never read that of the Aztec king, as 
it then lay in the archives of Spain. This illus- 
trious sovereign abolished human sacrifice and 
built a gorgeous temple which he dedicated to 
the unknown God — the Cause of Causes — 
whom he said he was unworthy to see. but told 
his son that He should yet be known and wor- 
shipped throughout the land. No image was 
allowed in this temple, and the people were 
prohibited from profaning its altars with blood 
or any other sacrifice than that of the perfume 
of flowers and sweet-scented gums. This great 

M I 



194 FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

ruler breathed his last about 1475, seventeen 
years before Columbus sailed for the Western 
world. 




BANISH CARE. 

iF there are bounds to pleasure, the 
saddest life must have an end. Then 
wave the chaplet of flowers, and sing- 
thy songs in praise of the all-power- 
ful God ; for the glory of this world soon fadeth 
away. Rejoice in the green freshness of thy 
spring ; for the day will come when thou shalt 
sigh for these joys in vain ; when the sceptre 
shall pass from thy hands, thy servants shall 
wander desolate in thy courts, thy sons and the 
sons of thy nobles shall drink the dregs of dis- 
tress, and all the pomp of thy victories and 
triumphs shall live only in their recollections. 
Yet the remembrance of the just shall not pass 
away from the nations, and the good thou hast 
done shall ever be held in honor. The goods 
of this life, its glories and its riches, are but 
lent to us; its substance is but an illusory 
shadow, and the things of to-day shall change 
on the coming of the morrow. Then gather 
the fairest flowers from thy gardens to bind 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. I95 

around thy brow, and seize the joys of the 
present ere they perish. 




INDIAN THANATOPSIS. 

C^LL things on earth have their term, 

A // and, in the most joyous career of 

^^ If] their vanity and splendor, their 

"^ strength fails, and they sink into the 
dust. All the round world is but a sepulchre ; 
and there is nothinof which lives on its surface 
that shall not be hidden and entombed beneath 
it. Rivers, torrents, and streams move onward 
to their destination. Not one flows back to its 
pleasant source. They rush onward, hastening 
to bury themselves in the deep bosom of the 
ocean. The things of yesterday are no more 
to-day ; and the things of to-day shall cease, 
perhaps, on the morrow. The cemetery is full 
of the loathful dust of bodies once quickened 
by living souls, who occupied thrones, presided 
over assemblies, marshalled armies, subdued 
provinces, arrogated to themselves worship, 
were puffed up with vainglorious pomp, and 
power, and empire. 

But these glories have all passed away, like 
the fearful smoke that issues from the throat 



196 FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

of Popocatepetl, with no other memorial of 
their existence than the record on the page of 
the chronicler. 

The great, the wise, the valiant, the beautiful, 
— alas ! where are they now ? They are all 
mingled with the clod ; and that which has be- 
fallen them shall happen to us and to those that 
come after us. Yet let us take courage, illus- 
trious nobles and chieftains, true friends and 
loyal subjects, let us aspire to that heaven 
where all is eternal and corruption cannot 
come. The horrors of the tomb are but the 
cradle of the Sun, and the dark shadows of 
death are brilliant lio-hts for the stars. 



BERNARDINO DE SAHAGUN. 

AZTEC LITERATURE. 

=^^0 an obscure Franciscan friar, Ber- 
I mT nardino De Sahagun, we are in- 
(C> ^ debted for most of the Aztec Mexi- 
^"^^^"^^ can literature which we now possess. 
This antiquarian scholar was born about 1500, 
in old Spain. In 1529, ten years after the in- 
vasion of Mexico by Cortes, he with other mem- 
bers of his Order landed in that country with 
the object of converting to the faith of their 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. I97 

fathers the people of that land. De Sahagun, 
who was a good and pious man, sought not for 
wealth In the land of his adoption, but devoted 
himself, in addition to the duties of his Order, 
to preserving the history and fragments of the 
literature of those with whom he had come to 
dwell. To accomplish this, to collect the ma- 
terial for his Universal History, which he wrote 
in the Aztec tongue, he studied the dialects 
of the natives, questioned their wise men, and 
submitted his material to their criticism. When 
about fifty years of age he completed this im- 
portant work, but had the misfortune to have 
its manuscripts taken from him by his superior, 
who was more pious than learned, lest it should 
attach the people to their ancient faith. From 
this action of his superior he appealed to Spain, 
and thirty years after, when eighty years of 
age, had his manuscripts restored. He then 
translated the History \x\lo the Castlllan tongue, 
and ten years later, when ninety years of age, 
he sent It to Madrid In two large folio volumes ; 
it was deposited In the archives of Spain, where 
it lay for more than two centuries. In 1829 it 
was first published In three volumes in Mexico, 
and in 1830, in England, by Lord Kingsborough 
in six volumes. 



198 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 
BRAHAM LINCOLN, one of the 
A \ most eminent statesmen in the his- 
^^ *^ tory of the ages, was born February 
12, 1809, in Kentucky. When eight 
years of age his father with his family moved 
to Indiana, then almost a wilderness. Abraham 
was taught spelling, reading, and writing at a 
rustic school. Later he acquired other branches 
of learning, including law and surveying. His 
youth was spent in rustic toil. He removed in 
1830 to Illinois, where in 1836 he was admitted 
to the Springfield bar, at which he reached dis- 
tinction. The same year he was elected and 
for three successive terms re-elected to the 
State legislature. In 1846 he was chosen to 
represent the district in Congress. In 1858 be- 
gan his memorable contest with Senator Stephen 
A. Douglass for a seat in the United States 
Senate. Douglass was elected by the legisla- 
ture through the unequal division of the legis- 
lative votes of the State, although Lincoln had 
the majority of the votes of the people. During 
this contest a number of joint debates were 
held between these two contestants before the 
adherents of both parties. Douglass possessed 
the gift of language in an eminent degree, but 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 1 99 

he often repeated the same thought and fre- 
quently in the same words. Lincoln's argu- 
ments were generally new and his language 
concise. In 1850 William H. Seward, in his 
Rochester speech, declared there was an irre- 
pressible conflict between slavery and freedom, 
that the States must become all slave or all 
free. In his speech before the Illinois Repub- 
lican Convention in 1858, Lincoln expressed 
the same thought, but added the prediction, 
which future events justified, that freedom would 
triumph. In the election of i860 for the presi- 
dency of the United States there were four 
nominees ; Lincoln, the Republican, was chosen 
by a plurality of the votes of the people. In 
the electoral college he received a majority of 
its votes over all competitors. On March 4, 
1 861, he delivered his first inaugural address. 
He chose an able cabinet, among whom were 
Seward, Chase, and later Stanton. He was 
the ruling spirit of that cabinet, and pursued 
his own conservative course regardless of the 
clamor of friends and foes, yet courteous to all. 
His chief aim was the unity of the nation's 
loyal friends for the preservation of the union, 
at the same time holding out the olive branch 
to its enemies on the conditions of freedom 



coo FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

and the union. The Civil War began with the 
bombardment of Fort Sumter, which capitulated 
April 13, 1861. On the Gettysburg battlefield, 
November, 1863, Lincoln delivered his immor- 
tal address in memory of the heroes who per- 
ished there. Edward Everett, the orator of the 
occasion, after Lincoln's address, with a gener- 
osity rarely equalled, said, '' Mr. President, you 
have said the only thing to-day that posterity 
will remember." This proved true. Everett's 
eloquent oration is remembered only by the lit- 
erati, while Lincoln's few remarks live undying. 
The American people have in his closing 
words resolved that this " o-overnment of the 
people, by the people, and for the people 
shall not perish from the earth." Having pre- 
viously announced his intention so to do, on 
January 31, 1863, he Issued his famous Emanci- 
pation Proclamation, which gave freedom to an 
oppressed race. Then re-echoed from shore to 
shore the words of a distinguished journalist, 
Horace Greeley, " God bless Abraham Lincoln." 
Having been re-elected on March 4, 1865, he 
delivered his second inauorural address Imbued 
with a deep, sad, religious feeling; referring to 
the prolongation of the war, he said, '* If God 
wills that it continue until the wealth piled by 



FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE. 20I 

the bondsmen, two hundred and fifty years of 
unrequited toil, shall be sunk, and until every 
drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be paid 
by another drawn with the sword, ... it 
must be said the 'judgments of the Lord are 
true and righteous altogether.' " But the con- 
flict was nearer the end than his sad thoucrhts 
anticipated. The Union troops, under the com- 
mand of their great leader, General Grant, were 
closing in on the enemy ; a month later Lincoln 
witnessed the last struggle of the Southern 
Confederacy, but his sad life was "cut short 
just as its triumph came." On April 14, at 
Ford's Theatre, Washington, the assassin's bul- 
let laid low that generous, tall, gaunt man. 
The flag he loved, '' grieving if aught inanimate 
e'er grieved," caught the murderer's spur in its 
silken folds when leaping to the stage, and 
thus injured his leg, delaying his flight and 
leading to his capture and death. Even those 
for whose cause Booth committed this crime 
denounced the deed. The excited people 
mourned the loss of their martyred president. 
Strong men, down whose cheeks since man- 
hood's dawn never flowed a tear, wept. Busi- 
ness was suspended ; sorrowing crowds viewed 
the funeral train as it slowly wended its way 

M 2 



202 FROM AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

toward the Western plains where he had tolled 
and which he loved. Tom Taylor, an English 
author, concludes his eulogy of Lincoln with the 
following lines : 

''Adeed accurst! Strokes have been struck 
before 
By the assassin's hand whereof men doubt 
If more of horror or disgrace they bore, 
But thy foul crime, Cain-like, stands darkly 
out. 

"Vile hand that handest murder on a strife. 
Whatever its grounds, stoutly and nobly 
striven, 
And with the martyr's crown crownest a life 
With much to praise, little to be forgiven." 

Lincoln was fond of story-telling, but story- 
telling was not, as some writers would have us 
believe, his chief occupation. His stories, like 
those of Franklin, were generally arguments 
of the most convincing kind or illustrated the 
subject under discussion. 

Of the many eminent men whose names 
adorn American history, two stand forth in bold 
relief. Washington, a prosperous land-owner 



FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 203 

and a polished gentleman, achieved his coun- 
try's independence, leading her armies against 
the veteran soldiers of Great Britain, sharinor 
with his men the privations of war until victory 
crowned their toil. His chief ambition was his 
country's welfare and independence. Lincoln, 
who in early life toiled for his daily bread, never 
forgot, even when President of his native land, 
that he was one of the people. He possessed 
a broad sympathy which embraced all his fellow- 
men, both friend and foe, guiding the ship of 
State safely through one of the greatest con- 
flicts the w^orld has ever witnessed; at its close 
sealing his country's freedom with his blood. 
The American people idolize Washington ; they 
love Lincoln. 

FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

THE WAR OF THE ROSES. 

C^HE War of the Roses began In 1455, 
I // and continued, with occasional Inter- 
[fl mission, to desolate England for 
^^ more than half a century. If any 
principle was involved In this civil strife, it has 
not been recorded by historians. The only 
apparent contest being, whether the House of 
York or the House of Lancaster should rule 




204 FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

the nation. The white rose was the chosen 
emblem of one and the red rose of the other. 
Each house had its victories, and each its de- 
feats. The crowns of their respective kings 
were toppled from their heads in rapid suc- 
cession, and w^hat was more to be deplored, 
rapine and bloodshed desolated England. On 
one of its fields, that of Towton, Hume informs 
us, over 36,000 fell in battle and pursuit, the vic- 
tor, Edward IV., having- ordered that no quarter 
was to be given. During this fierce contest 
for the crown, science, literature, and art lan- 
guished, and England only gained a growth of 
rival Roses. 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

^~Q LIVER GOLDSMITH, one of the 
1 I ((r sweetest writers in the English lan- 
^ §^^^^' the son of a benevolent Epis- 
^^^ copal clergyman, was born In 1728 
at Pallas, Longford, Ireland. He was the black 
sheep of his pious father's family. At school 
and also at Trinity College, Dublin, where he 
studied, he excelled neither in genius nor appli- 
cation. He left college in disgrace on account 
of a supper and a dance which he gave at his 
rooms. Notwithstanding his failures and his 




FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 205 

frailties, he had one faithful friend, his good 
uncle, the Rev. Thomas Centarine, who never, 
even to the close of his life, lost faith in his 
ultimate success. This good man had many 
opportunities of killing the fatted calf to enter- 
tain his oft-returning prodigal. Notwithstand- 
ing his straightened means this kind uncle aided 
him financially to study for the church, law, and 
medical professions, in none of which, however, 
did he meet with success. On one occasion he 
lost fifty pounds at the gaming table which was 
given to aid him in his legal studies. Although 
he thus squandered the money given him, he 
loved, venerated, and was grateful to his true- 
hearted uncle, who did not live to witness his 
nephew's ultimate triumphs. After his college 
career he traveled through Europe on foot as 
a wandering minstrel, gaining a livelihood some- 
times by university challenges, and at others by 
his flute, which secured him a hearty welcome 
at many a cottage home. In 1756 he returned 
to England and settled in London, where he 
suffered many privations. His first employ- 
ment was assistant to a chemist, then to a phy- 
sician to the poor. Through a patient he was 
introduced to Samuel Richardson, the author of 
'' Clarissa," and became his proof-reader. In 



206 FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

1760 he wrote for Newbary's Public Ledger his 
celebrated " Letters from a Chinese Philosopher 
in London to His Friends in the East," which 
were afterward published under the title of 
"The Citizen of the World." These letters 
give an amusing account of English life as 
viewed through Chinese spectacles. Gold- 
smith's income was now largely increased, but 
his expenditures were also large. In 1764 his 
landlady had him arrested for rent. He sought 
the aid of his friend, Dr. Johnson, who imme- 
diately visited him and sold for him, for sixty 
pounds, his beautiful story, which he had just 
completed, "The Vicar of Wakefield." This 
novel has been enjoyed by many thousands for 
many generations. As a poet he ranks high. 
"The Traveller," "Edwin and Angelina," and 
"The Deserted Village" are the best produc- 
tions of his muse. On the comparative merits 
of the first and last of these poems connois- 
seurs differ, but popular taste has given its de- 
cision in favor of "The Deserted Village." 
Goldsmith possessed great descriptive power, 
even in verse. Who is not charmed with his 
word-picture of the village preacher? A pic- 
ture of his own reverend father, "whose pity 
gave ere charity began," and at whose home 



FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 20/ 

"the long-remembered beggar was his guest." 
His description also of the old-time inn, where 
"news much older than their ale went round," 
is life-like, and so is his school and school- 
teacher : 

'' In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill ; 
For e'en though vanquished, he could argue 

still ; 
While words of learned length and thunder- 

inof sound. 
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ; 
And still they gazed, and still the wonder 

grew, 
That one small head could carryall he knew." 

"Edwin and Angelina" has always been ad- 
mired, and some of its lines often memorized 
and quoted. A Scotch gentleman was so de- 
lio-hted with it that he built a hermitao-e similar 
to the one described in the poem, and even ad- 
vertised for a hermit to become a life-tenant, 
but could not obtain one on that condition. If, 
however, he had arranged that his Angelina 
should accompany him, he might have suc- 
ceeded. His two dramas, "The Good-natured 
Man " and " She Stoops to Conquer," are still 
admired. His histories also have many read- 



208 FROM ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

ers. He died in 1774, lamented by many dis- 
tinguished men. The poor and infirm also 
mourned their loss ; in this they were no doubt 
joined by his creditors, for he died, notwith- 
standing his large income, owing two thousand 
pounds. His remains rest in Westminster 
Abbey, and his friend, Dr. Johnson, wrote his 
epitaph. 

By what standard shall we measure this 
child of genius, this compound of human 
weakness and greatness ? His pure, beautiful 
writings have been a pleasure to tens of thou- 
sands. As Garrick said, '' he wrote like an 
angel." Of him Dr. Johnson remarked: "No 
man was more foolish when he had not a pen 
In his hand, or more wise when he had." Per- 
haps it is better to conclude in the language of 
Adeline Proctor : 

*' Judge not ; the workings of his brain 
And of his heart thou canst not see ; 
What looks to thy dim eyes a stain 
In God's pure light may only be 
A scar brought from some well-won field, 
Where thou wouldst only faint and yield." 

THE END. 



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